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skzdarlings · 11 months

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part iv: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 10k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamics plus explicit sexual content.

“All right, gang,” Jisung says. “Final year of school together, you know what that means?”

You and Felix are on your way to class when Jisung literally throws himself between you. He hands each of you a print-out before you can answer his question or even say hello.

“The Three Musketeers,” Felix reads. “Peas in a Pod, Rule of Three…?”

“This is our final year as a best friend trio in the hallowed halls of high school,” Jisung says. “And next year? Who knows what happens! Marriages! Mortgages! Babies!”

“Jisung, we just turned eighteen,” you say.

“Which is almost nineteen, which is almost twenty, then we’re practically forty.” He waves a hand around. “The point is, this is our last opportunity to solidify a name. For us. For the group. It’s necessary.”

“Is it though?” Felix asks, squinting as he skims the sheet. “BLT? Who’s the bacon?”

“I am, obviously,” Jisung says.

“Why is that obvious?” you ask.

“How is it not obvious, Lettuce?” Jisung says, scandalized. “Anyway, we can workshop the names. This is just to get the ball rolling. I expect results by lunchtime tomorrow at the latest.”

Jisung continues his endearing but admittedly inane blather, at least until Hyunjin comes sauntering up the hallway like it’s a catwalk, then he just frowns. Jisung has never warmed to the popular pretty boy and Hyunjin does not seem particularly inclined to rectify any bad impressions. He is astoundingly self-confident.

People move out of his way. Some girls downright swoon if he deigns to cast them even a fleeting glance. You can’t really judge any of them seeing as you were the same when Lee Minho still roamed these halls. You are not totally immune to Hyunjin either, though your attention is somewhat scattered these days.

You look at Felix.

He is re-reading the class schedule for this year, mumbling reminders under his breath. His hair is a sunny yellow blonde and freshly trimmed to frame his face, thanks to your help. He was cutting his own hair which made sense, not just logistically but stylistically, seeing as it was often a shaggy mess. You have taken to helping him so it looks a little neater.

You look at the fuzzier hair on his nape, recalling how your fingertips pressed there as you tipped his head for a better angle.

Your eyes meet when he looks up, but you are drawn apart when Hyunjin claps him on the shoulder with a greeting. They sat beside each other for most of their first year and formed something of a friendship – only something, because the plucky, likable Australian transfer student is a fabrication.

You once told yourself you would never fall for the schoolboy routine, that you would always remember his real identity, but you never considered what might happen if you cared for the real him anyway.

“Heeey Fee-lix,” Hyunjin says in an emphasized, overly friendly way. He draws out your name with the same saccharine pleasantness, all while ignoring a scowling Jisung.

Hyunjin leaves before anyone can reply, but Jisung still thumps Felix on the arm.

“Traitor,” he says.

“What? He’s nice,” Felix says, exchanging an amused look with you.

“You know, Jisungie, maybe you’d get along better if you stopped trying to trip him everywhere he goes,” you say, pointing to Jisung’s presently outstretched leg.

Jisung stands straight. “He tried to kill me,” he says.

“Not this again,” you say. “Jisung, he didn’t know about your peanut allergy—”

“He tried to put his nuts directly into my mouth,” Jisung says, then groans miserably. “That came out wrong.” He spins his cap to tug the brim over his eyes. “Do not repeat that. The last thing I need is freshmen writing fanfiction about us.”

You and Felix pat his back in a consoling manner.

Felix sits behind you in class, dutiful as ever. You are unpacking your bag when Hyunjin walks in with his girlfriend of the week. Rumours about Hyunjin are in never-ending circulation and he seems to help them along. You have caught him in a quiet moment once or twice, curled up in the library alone or lingering after hours in the art room, but that quieter soul seems contradictory to his showman side. Even now, he starts making out with his girlfriend in the middle of the classroom.

You can’t help but stare, mostly because the brazenness is so audacious that it is impossible not to stare, but it also makes you think. You have never kissed anyone, though you have entertained countless fantasies that spiral far beyond kissing, and while you know you are young in abstract way… staring at a happy couple your age makes you feel jealous, desirous, and a little ridiculous. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, forty…

Felix clears his throat and you realize you have been staring too long.

Not only that, but Hyunjin is staring back, even with his mouth pressed against someone else. It feels like flames erupt inside you. You drop heavily into your seat and stare at your desk, swallowing hard. When you chance a look, Hyunjin is leaning back in his own seat, smiling at you.

Felix clears his throat again.

“What?” you ask, sharp.

“Nothing,” Felix says, casual.

You roll your eyes. He kicks your chair. You turn around and knock his textbook off his desk.

“That’s not nice,” he says.

You stick your tongue out at him.

As seniors, you are allowed to leave campus for lunch. The three of you make your way to a nearby sandwich shop, one naturally packed with most of the senior grade level. You crowd into a tiny booth, so cramped you are halfway sitting on Felix’s lap. Your mood sours as you let yourself wallow in self-pity, thinking about how normal girls get to sit on normal boys’ laps and be excited about it.

You are sulking into your sandwich, thinking about how you are going to die alone and miserable and unkissed, when a chair is suddenly drawn up to your table and Hyunjin sits beside you.

Jisung’s mouth is stuffed full of ham, which you know because he drops his jaw despite all the food.

Hyunjin does not remark on it. He smiles at you and you alone.

“Hey,” he says. He really is stupidly handsome. Even up close, you see no awkward blemishes, not a hair out of place. His uniform tie is a little askew from tugging but that’s it.

Jisung kicks you under the table, probably because you are just staring blankly at Hyunjin.

“Sorry, hi,” you finally say.

His smiles widens. He tucks a bit of hair behind his ear.

“Hey, I won’t bug you and your friends,” Hyunjin says, ignoring when Jisung mumbles too late under his breath, “but I want to walk you back to school after lunch. Alone.”

You are so unprepared for the suggestion that find yourself staring again. He taps your chin to lift your head, still smiling.

“Is that a yes?” he asks.

“Uh, sorry, yeah, yes! Yeah, sure. Okay.” You aren’t even totally sure that is your answer, but it rolls out of you instinctively. Just as instinctively do you whip a startled look to your best friend. Jisung’s mouth is still hanging open. “Umm…” you say, but Hyunjin is already standing.

“Great,” he says. “See you soon.”

You watch him walk away. Jisung speaks through the food in his mouth, chokes, swallows, then clears his throat.

“What was that?” he finally says.

“I have no idea,” you reply, completely honestly.

You cannot compute this situation at all. Your approach to most social interactions is to scowl. Because of your father’s many stringent rules, you have never had an opportunity to be truly social. You play an appropriate role at the functions he forces you to attend, but that entails sitting alone in a corner and sipping soda. Growing up, you were not allowed to spend time at anyone’s house or go anywhere without supervision, so maintaining friendships was next to impossible.

The only exception has ever been Han Jisung. You sat beside each other in your first year and your miserable countenance coupled with his anxious demeanour meant that you spent six months not even talking to each other. Then one day he mustered the nerve to comment on the weather, you replied accordingly, and somehow that opened a floodgate to unleash the goofy boy that would become your best and only friend.

Your social experience is limited to that. You are someone who sits with your best friend in a corner, staring at an unattainable pretty boy at a distance, but you have never had to grapple with the reality of one asking for your attention.

You look at Felix, but he has drawn a somber mask over his face. He pokes at his sandwich. He can’t lecture you in front of Jisung but you know he has something to say. A part of you wishes it was jealousy or any personal feeling, but you know it will only be a reminder about your father, that he wouldn’t approve of you running around with any unknown boys.

When you leave the shop with Hyunjin, you already know Felix and Jisung will follow close behind. Felix has no choice, but you are certain Jisung will require little convincing. You pretend you do not see them trailing six feet back, partially obscuring themselves in the occasional bush, but Hyunjin naturally looks at them.

“You’re not…” he says slowly. “You’re not dating… one of them… are you? They’re really—”

“They’re just my crazy friends,” you say in an embarrassed rush. “Jisung is like my brother, ew, I could never – ew. Ew. Oh my god, ew. And Felix—”

You woke this morning with Felix’s face nuzzled in the back of your neck. The distance in that big bed closed long ago now. You only sleep apart when your father is home. You also never talk about it, not that you could articulate your feelings anyway. The intimacy and companionship provides more comfort to your soul than you could ever say.

You swallow.

“I’m not dating Felix,” you say. “I’m not dating anyone.” This thought prompts you to look at Hyunjin. Rather ungracefully, you blurt the obvious question, “Don’t you have a girlfriend? Why are you talking to me?”

He laughs into his palm. You realize belatedly just how accusatory you sounded, especially considering his attention might be wholly platonic. Embarrassed, you trip over your words, your tongue a suddenly clumsy thing.

Hyunjin just giggles.

“It’s okay,” he says. “No one ever calls me out like that. I like it.” He bumps shoulders with you. Wait, is he flirting? You have no idea. You stare at the ground with laser intensity. He just giggles again. “We broke up before lunch—”

“Wow, you moved on fast,” you say. Dry remarks tumble out of you easier than anything else. You bite your tongue, embarrassed again.

Hyunjin still looks amused.

“It wasn’t really serious,” he says. “I’m looking for some with similar life experience, to be honest…”

You crinkle your brow and look at him. His hands are in his pockets, his slouch casual, but you swear his eyes sparkle when he looks at you.

“I saw you,” he says. “At that horse race thing. This last weekend? You were in the box with your dad, right? Felix was with you too.”

The horse race was an end-of-summer event your father sponsored, one of his community philanthropic efforts. You spent the whole time frowning under a sun hat, only smiling when Felix muttered something scalding about a particularly overdramatic hat in the crowd.

A crowd Hyunjin was apparently in.

You have always known Hyunjin comes from money, but there is money and there is money. The Hwang family might be rich but your father is powerfully wealthy. You run in different circles. You have never seen Hyunjin at any event so you would never even think to look for him. They must be moving up in the world.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, not even a dry retort.

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin says. He touches your shoulder and your attention zeroes in there. You can’t decide if you like him touching you. An hour ago you were idly daydreaming about kisses and touches, but the reality is a different thing. It took you a long time to warm to Felix, bit by bit, touch by touch. Even those touches terrify you in their own way. You are scared of needing them. You do not know how you can simultaneously desire touch and fear it more than anything.

Hyunjin uses a soothing tone, drawing your gaze away from his hand.

“I get it,” Hyunjin says. “You don’t want people to know you’re rich, right? Honestly… I think that’s really cool of you. My dad likes to show-off so I guess I kinda do the same.” You glance at his brand-name leather satchel. “Everything is about appearances to him. It doesn’t even matter what’s true as long as everything looks the way he wants. There’s an… image… for the family. And I’m an only child so there’s expectations. Maybe I’m not making sense.”

“No,” you say, your thoughts drifting to your own home life. “It makes sense.”

“I thought maybe you and me could hang out—”

“I don’t really hang out a lot,” you interrupt. You have been able to spend more time with Jisung now that Felix can accompany you, but it has been at cafes and other controlled locations. You have not gone to any parties since your father beat Felix. He has never hurt him as badly as that first incident, but he has struck him more than once. You have not taken the risk.

“Think about it at least,” Hyunjin says. “Think about me. I think we could be a good match—”

“You mean…” It might be ungenerous, but you weigh his words and form a conclusion. “If you date someone like me, it will get your father off your back?”

He is quiet for a second, surprised, then he laughs again. He finally drops his hand. His next smile is a little lopsided but more genuine.

“Maybe we could help each other,” he says.

“I didn’t say I need any help,” you reply. You cannot help the way you bristle, like a vulnerable animal rearing its defensive spikes. “You don’t know me.”

“I know me,” he says. “And I recognize… well. Think about it.” He looks behind you, his features scrunching with clear repugnance. “I’m gonna go before your not-boyfriend pops a blood vessel. Talk to you later?”

You are still processing the whole exchange but you manage to nod. He turns on a swift heel and struts ahead.

You turn, expecting to find Jisung frothing at the mouth given Hyunjin’s departing words. But it is Felix silently seething, Jisung just cringing beside him.

Felix cracks his own neck, a couple sharp jerks, then he forces that empty smile onto his face.

When you are settled in the car at the end of the day, you are not surprised his first words are, “You know I have to tell your father if you start seeing some guy, yeah?”

“Some guy?” you say just as icily. “You know his name.”

You have been on edge on all afternoon, discombobulated from the exchange with Hyunjin. Felix has been unusually silent, so rigid and ungiving that he reminds you of that mysterious fourteen year old boy who barely did more than blink.

But he is not that boy. You are both growing. You can feel the seconds passing you by, every aching minute that your life does not change from its stagnation, every moment of his own life that Felix has surrendered.

You want to jump out of the moving car. You want to slide across the seat and bury your face in Felix’s neck, no matter that someone can see, and you want him to hug you back.

You stay seated.

“Do what you want,” you say with a sigh.

He sighs too, resting his forehead against the car window.

The house is empty tonight. You can’t concentrate on homework so you shuffle down to the gym where Felix is practicing kicks. You watch him, his nimble athleticism, the perfect arc of each high kick.

One wall of the house gym is a mirror and your eyes meet in the reflection. He holds your gaze for a moment, but then he goes back to counting under his breath, kicking again.

“I thought you liked Hyunjin,” you say.

He stops kicking. His hands are taped up for boxing, so he diverts his attention there, slowly unweaving the tape while he catches his breath.

“This has nothing to do with me,” he says. “You know that, yeah, so I don’t know what—”

“Don’t you want to date someone one day too?”

He doesn’t look up. He drops the tape on the floor and starts on the next hand.

“No,” he finally says after a long pause.

“No?” you repeat. “You don’t want—”

“I can’t want anything,” he says with a mean bite. “I have a job. And responsibilities.” The tape is too light to throw but he flicks it as hard as he can, shaking his head. “Why are you asking me stupid questions? You know how things are.”

Yes, you do.

You know what you feel when you look at Felix. You have been friends with Jisung for years and his proximity has never induced the same feelings. Bursts of heat find you at unexpected times, usually moments when your intimacy feels its most casual. But you never have to think twice about why a crush on your bodyguard is a bad idea, because Felix always reminds you without saying anything. When you get too close, his eyes go glassy with some remembrance and he swiftly pulls away.

You know this does not stop him from thoughtlessly leaning into your touches. He slants towards you with a certain kind of hunger, one you know is satisfied when you touch given how he sighs or relaxes. Then, like someone so used to starvation that emptiness feels natural, he remembers himself and withdraws. You wouldn’t care – or at least, you shouldn’t care – except it leaves you just as empty.

You do not know the details of Felix’s past, but you do know that you carry a similar pain. He recognized it at a glance, all those years ago, seeing past your bravado and calling out your fear. We’re both scared, he said.

You see it now, in the tension across his shoulders, in the way he avoids your gaze. The sharpness of his tone is a twin to your own.

“Yeah,” you say. “I know how things are. You’re a pain in my ass and I hate you.”

It is such an unconvincing lie that he finally lifts his head, meeting your gaze in the mirror. You look at each other for a long moment.

You wonder what someone brave would say or do. Maybe you would tell him the truth and fuck the consequences. Maybe you would kiss him like you were experienced, like you were anyone but an awkward little girl with clammy hands and shaking knees.

You turn to leave. He sighs and says, “Your father said yes.”

You freeze.

“He likes the idea of Hyunjin,” Felix continues. “He thinks he’s… appropriate.”

You remember Hyunjin making out with someone in the middle of the classroom, and you remember how he was once expelled for fighting. You laugh humourlessly, the sound punching out of you. You slap a hand over your mouth to contain it. You suddenly feel like crying and you don’t know why, except that your emotions are in constant flux.

“You mean he thinks he’s rich,” you say.

“I mean… he doesn’t… think it,” Felix says dryly. “Hyunjin is rich.”

Felix can move quietly even in military grade tactical boots. It should be easy in his gym shoes, but he walks heavily as he comes up behind you.

“Why don’t you sound happy?” Felix asks.

You turn around and meet his gaze directly. Your stare is heated, rife with all your mixed-up emotions, but he does not flinch or look away.

“You’re an idiot,” you say. “I hate you.”

You have never fooled him with that proclamation. He draws his lips into a thin line, just staring back at you for a moment. When you turn to leave, he grabs your arm. Sparks ignite under his touch, shooting all the way up your arm, tickling your neck, raising each hair. It feels so different from Hyunjin.

You look at him and he lets go, flexing his hand at his side.

“I, uh, I want to show you… something.” He pushes some sweaty hair off his forehead. His deep voice seems lower, the sound scratching at the base of your spine. Tingles run all the way up to your head.

“Show me?” you say. “Show me what exactly?”

“Self-defence,” he says, brow furrowed, like his train of thought was obvious. “If your dad lets you go out with some guy—”

“With Hyunjin,” you say, rolling your eyes. “The dumb gangly gazelle you’ve watched lumber all over the field in gym class?”

“You should still know how to protect yourself,” he says.

“Isn’t that what you’re for?”

“I am going to guess you might be alone with him once or twice,” Felix says dryly, “unless you want to keep me in the room then too.”

The suggestion makes you feel hot, flushed with embarrassment. You duck your gaze to the floor.

“You’re being silly,” you say. “I haven’t even gone out with him yet. And I’ve never even kissed someone.” Felix must know that, but admitting it feels different. You look up, feeling floaty and detached from your body, like you are watching yourself look at Felix.

He clears his throat and looks away, snapping you back.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll practice another day. But we will practice.”

You know he means self-defence, but your brain supplies the image of kissing practice. Your face must show that thought, maybe a sliver of panic in your gaze, because the tips of his ears turn suddenly pink. He clears his throat again, shaking his head and turning away. You leave quicker than you came, rushing all the way to the top floor to hide in your bedroom where you intend to mull over your day with maximum angst.

By nighttime, everything seems petty and stupid. You are laying in bed on your phone when Felix gets back from his security check. He says nothing, climbing into bed without even looking at you. You just roll your eyes, done with the drama. He looks over just in time for you to butt your head against his arm like a disgruntled baby goat. His laugh is nothing more than a sharp exhale.

It takes some coaxing, mostly in the form of whining, but Felix puts his arm around you. Some of the shadows finally leave his face, a smile even daring to poke through.

You fiddle with the neck of his t-shirt and he does the same with the ends of your hair.

“Your father had an idea, by the way,” Felix says, “for a first date.”

You groan, planting your face on his chest. He laughs, a proper hearty sound.

“What, a picnic in the family dungeons?” The sarcasm rolls off your tongue. “Torture? Flaying the guy alive? Chopping off his—”

“Ouch.”

“I was gonna say limbs—” You swat his chest.

“Okay, okay, ouch, hey!” He is still chuckling when you settle again. He squeezes your arm.

A moment of comfortable silence passes. You resume your absent-minded fidgeting, twisting the loose material of his t-shirt around your knuckles. You do not dare meet his eye when you ask, “I know what you said earlier but… if you could… what would you do for a first date?”

His whole body goes stiff with tension, then he just exhales, a pitiful sound of resignation.

“There’s no point in thinking about it,” Felix says. “And I don’t know anyway. What do people do on dates?”

“Oh come on, you’ve been watching the dramas with me,” you say, keeping your voice light. “You could have some ideas.”

“Well, I don’t,” he says, not unkindly but firmly.

“Fine,” you say. You roll over so you are half on-top of him, a leg thrown over his. You make a show of rolling your eyes, but his returned gaze is too soft for any real animosity to linger. “For the record, I would plan an amazing first date if I didn’t have my dad – blegh – orchestrating the whole thing.”

“I believe you,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m sure you would sweep Hyunjin off his feet, hmm?”

“Hmm,” you echo. “Sure.” You raise your head so you are peering down at him. “I don’t even know what Hyunjin would like. He’s pretty but he’s… I dunno… a liar or something. Like he obviously just wants to date me because we’re both rich, but he wouldn’t admit it till I said it. Who knows what other secrets he could be keeping.”

“Hwang Hyunjin,” Felix muses. “Deep, dark secrets… maybe… hmm… his hair routine?”

You laugh before you can stop yourself. “Don’t be mean,” you say.

“Uhh, I’m never mean,” Felix says. “You’re the one who called him a liar.”

“Or something,” you argue playfully. He says ahh, like that differentiation mattered at all. “Maybe he collects teeth from all his dozens of girlfriends. Or their hair. Maybe he’s a cannibal.”

Felix sighs with theatrical exasperation. “From hair care to cannibalism, really?” he asks.

“Could be,” you say, trying and failing to stifle your giggles, especially when it makes him laugh. “He might gobble me all up on the first date.”

“That would be very rude,” Felix says. “He should wait until the third date at least.”

“Oh, is that what a gentleman like you would do?” You laugh. “Maybe provide a written invitation to the event?”

“Of course,” he jokes. “If I planned on eating you, you’d be the first to know.”

The double-entendre is clearly unintentional, smothering the giggly playfulness with a sudden heady air. You both hear the accidental suggestion, and you both stare at each other, and you both take too long to say something so it turns awkward. You become very aware of all the places you are touching, so aware that you cannot compel yourself to move thanks to sudden nerves.

Felix reliably comes to his senses first. He nudges you gently, forcing himself to laugh as he slides out of the bed.

“Umm, sorry,” he says. He shoves a hand through his hair, the blonde fluffing with his rough touch. “I just need to… uh… bathroom? I’ll be... um, back.”

You return to your side of the bed where you curl into a ball of appropriately eighteen-year-old angst. Your current state of peril has nothing to do with power-corrupt businessmen and their fragile egos, and everything to do with a boy in your bed. You shove your face in a pillow and keep it there until he returns. You do not look at him, still too riled up in the silent tension.

You are convinced you will never fall asleep but it inevitably sneaks up on you. All at once, you are blinking awake in the morning light. You drifted closer to Felix in your sleep but kept your hands to yourself. You are both laying on your fronts, faces turned to each other. He sleeps so lightly that he wakes from the faintest shift in the cadence of your breathing.

The sleepy quiet of morning has none of the awkwardness of late night silence. It feels hazy and gentle in its golden breath, held long enough for your hands to meet between you. It is the only place you are touching, fingertip to palm to knuckle and back again. Your whole head goes fuzzy with tingles when he traces the pad of your palm.

You think about the many romance stories you have surreptitiously read on your laptop, flipping between smut and homework. In all those stories, it seems that when the hapless leads find themselves sharing a bed, they manage to entangle themselves overnight, always suggestively, always accidentally.

You do not appear to have that kind of luck, that accident of circumstance where you are not responsible for your own actions. Instead you are laying in the sunlight, lit up so brightly that there could be no mistaking intention, his dark eyes catching the light as he looks at you as if he knows what you are thinking.

It has to be deliberate. Nothing will change on its own.

Is this combination of terror and desire normal? Is it simply a matter of age and inexperience? Or is it in indication of damage, something inherently broken in you? When your fingers interlock, it feels wonderful. It also activates alarms in your head, none of them equipped with an off switch.

You close your eyes. He breathes and you know him so well that you recognize him by that, by the way he inhales sharply, like he has suddenly remembered where and who he is. You know it means he is about to pull away.

Sudden, sharp, panicked adrenaline propels you out of your timid repose and into his arms. It is not so different from the millions of times he has held you, except this time you are frantic and strange, your heart beating wildly as you hide your face in his neck and cling to him like he will float away if you don’t hold tight enough.

It surprises him. He has the skill to deflect an attack but he lets you barrel into him, taking your weight with little more than an oof. For a moment, he does nothing, his arms open at his sides. You feel his shoulder twitch.

He says your name in sleep-rough voice, barely more than a whisper. A reminder, scolding you but half-heartedly. You know what he sounds like when he is mad, when emotion slips through the cracks of his careful facades. This emotion is not anger.

“Felix,” is your reply.

His next breath shudders out of him, sounding almost painful. Then the arm beneath you shifts. He touches your lower back tentatively, through your t-shirt yet hesitating like the contact might burn skin. Another breath, then his palm is flat on your back and he is rolling onto his side to face you.

Your heart is leaping around like it is being electrocuted, sparks of electricity zapping to every extremity as his other hand curls around your bicep. His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is open, nothing but another shaking breath passing his lips.

You touch his face with trembling fingers, the very tips lightly brushing his temple. You know, on some level, this is nothing deserving of alarm despite the cacophony still ringing in your head. This is little more than an intimate embrace, fully-clothed and only barely touching each other.

You are not even kissing. With your adrenaline in the dregs, you cannot push yourself across that space. Instead, you find yourself staring into his face when his eyes open. You look at each other, forced to reckon with your proximity, looking at his mouth while he looks at yours. There is no denying this could be a kiss, that it would require very little more than a lean.

His knuckles skim your side as his hand slips from your arm to your waist. Your breath catches when he lays his hand on your hip, not moving or pushing but holding.

Still such simple touches. You wonder how other people can do more so easily when this alone is overwhelming.

Your morning alarm is not due to ring for another twenty minutes. There is nothing to disturb you. You press your fingers into his shoulder. This already has him tensing, then you scratch your nails along the nape of his neck, up into his hair, and it unravels him with a shiver, eyes closing and cheek pressing hard into his pillow.

He wrenches away all at once, making a noise like it hurts to do so. You feel dizzy as you stare at the indentation on his pillow while he swings his leg off the bed. He doubles over, elbows on his knees, hands on his face. He digs his fists into his eyes and scrubs hard. He takes a minute to catch his breath.

Eventually he stands. He pauses like he intends to speak but then he just pivots into the bathroom. The door shuts with a heavy click.

You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling. You have no idea if he is coming right back, but you know this intimate moment has conclusively ended. Your whole body is alight, the places he touched you still radiating sensation. There is such a desperate pulsing between your legs that you can’t help but touch there, palm pressing hard to quell the incessant thrum of want.

You really do not intend to do more. You only just barely know the mechanics for touching yourself thanks to reading, but you are afforded little opportunity for discovery due to obvious reasons. You do not know how fast he will return, but you doubt you have enough time to work it all out.

You slide a hand under your clothes only to temper the worst of that wanting, applying pressure clumsily. Your eyes close when you feel how ridiculously wet you are, far more than you have ever felt before. Your mind then projects the unbidden image of Felix, wondering if he is on the other side of that bathroom door touching himself in a similar way.

It makes you gasp, turning your head, heel of your palm still pressing down hard inside your shorts. You open your eyes just in time for Felix to step back into the room.

He looks at you and completely freezes. You have never felt more like a deer caught in the headlights.

He turns and stumbles back into the bathroom, uncharacteristically clumsy. You yank your hand out of your shorts and roll onto your front, shrieking into your pillows with a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

What is my life, you ask yourself. You really have no answer.

The first date with Hyunjin is not a proper date at all. Your father extends an invitation to Hyunjin and his parents, requesting their presence at another one of his good-press charity functions.

This one is a silent auction and banquet in a luxurious hotel ballroom. Despite the fact you attend the same school, you are formally introduced at the party, the whole charade making you feel like a ridiculous character in a historical drama.

You are already more than a little grumpy because Felix is not here, your father logically determining that his own security entourage was plenty for the night. There is also the matter of Felix’s cover. Hyunjin knows him as a student and your friend, not a bodyguard. You will have to tell him eventually if this goes anywhere but—

That thought abruptly sends you on one of your overthinking spirals. If your father intends to force this relationship along, you do not know if he will fire Felix rather than explain him, if one day you will suddenly go home and your bedroom will be empty, Felix gone without a trace and you with no way to contact him.

Your throat strains with a choked back sob as you struggle to remember every little detail about Felix – the animes he claims he only watches because Jisung does, but that he definitely secretly enjoys, the horrified lemon-sour face he pulls when he accidentally drinks your coffee instead of his sugar-laden tea, the way he likes taking apart electronics and rebuilding them, his sharp mind, his goofy wit, his complete and total weirdness that he skillfully masks in public but drops at home. That house could be full of people but if Felix was no longer there, it would feel horribly empty.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asks. He looks resplendent in white, his dark hair a sharp contrast to his dress shirt and pants. Other people are swooning at the sight of him. You have not looked at him for longer than a few seconds at a time.

“Sorry,” you say. You take a swig of water like it’s hard liquor. You try to smile but you can feel how crooked it is. “Just… the parties are a lot.” It is only a partial lie. Your mind is somewhere else, but the parties are a lot to handle.

Hyunjin smiles. He props his chin in his hand and leans towards you. “Good company makes them better, though,” he says.

“Yeah.” You look away again, staring out the window at the cityscape and thinking about Felix. “It does, doesn’t it?”

The ordeal is a success by your father’s standards. You sit with Hyunjin all night. You dance a few clumsy dances where you scuff his expensive dress shoes with your missteps. You wander onto a balcony and he gives you his coat. Beat for beat, moment by moment, it all goes perfectly.

A moment that genuinely moves you is the only one your father does not care about. Conversation between you and Hyunjin is stilted for a long while, then someone mentions one of the paintings up for auction and he lights up. No one else acknowledges it, so you ask him about it. You do not miss the warning look his father shoots him, but when you smile at Hyunjin like he is the most charming person alive, it placates him.

Hyunjin does not observe most of this. Once you let him talk about the art, he cannot stop. He becomes someone else when immersed in this subject, more animated, more open, much more sincere. You could almost like this Hyunjin.

You like him even more when he forgets his propriety and snorts at your derision for a few pompous assholes. This party is crawling with creepy elites, only a few known to Hyunjin. You catch him up on the latest high society nonsense, pointing out the affairs and scandals, as well as telling him which few individuals are somewhat more tolerable.

You are leaning against a wall, licking the icing off a cupcake, when he suddenly smiles at you, big and huge. You choke on the sugar. You feel hot under your skin, wondering if you were accidentally suggestive with your licking, but he doesn’t comment on that at all.

“I’ve never known someone who sees people so well,” he says. “Especially somewhere like this. Everyone is a bit—”

“Off in their own world?” You share a giggle. “I’m just bored,” you say, deflecting the compliment because Hyunjin doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You do not see anything special in your observations, just your own loneliness as you sit back and watch the world go by.

You don’t tell him that. You distract him by pointing to another figure across the room, a well-dressed older man flanked by his own entourage. You can separate the immensely wealthy from the nouveau riche by appearance. The former are sleekly sophisticated at events like this, almost nonchalant in their presentation, whereas the latter overdress themselves to flaunt their wealth, as if they feel the need to prove they belong. The former know where they belong.

This man is undeniably the former.

“You see that man over there?” you whisper, pointing discreetly with your cupcake. “That’s Mister Miroh. He is my father’s biggest competitor and most hated rival. They are exactly the same person and trust me, that’s not a compliment. They hate each other more than anything.” You say this very casually then take a bite of your cupcake.

“Huh?” Hyunjin’s brow furrows, making you laugh. “If they hate each other, why was he invited?”

“Because rich people are insane,” you say. “It’s just about keeping up appearances. Yeah, they’re rivals, but that also makes them equals, so it’s bad form to neglect them in public company.” Hyunjin nods here, clearly understanding. You remember what he said about his own parents and appearances. You must admit, it is nice talking to someone who understands you from his own first-hand experience. “Also,” you say, “I’m sure it’s like that saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. If Miroh is here, then he’s not off somewhere disrupting my father’s business while his back is turned.”

“This is exhausting,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head.

“No kidding.” You laugh again. When Hyunjin looks at you with a dimpled smile, you smile back. It feels friendly, not like his forced flirtatious grins earlier in the evening. You like this Hyunjin more. “You want some cupcake?” you ask, holding up the very big, very rich dessert.

Hyunjin eyes it then shakes his head. He tucks some hair behind his ears.

“I’m supposed to be on a diet,” he explains, laughing at your expression because you cannot hide your horror. “It’s not a bad thing—” he starts.

“You are so skinny, a hard wind could blow you out the window,” you say, shoving the cupcake at him. “You said I was good at seeing people, well, I can see you want the cupcake. So eat it or I’ll push you off the balcony.”

He looks around to see if anyone is looking but his parents are occupied with their own conversations. He looks at you conspiratorially then acquiesces, finishing the cupcake in just a couple big bites. You applaud and he shakes his head, laughing and spitting little flakes of cupcake. It makes you laugh more. He is in good humour the whole time, even if it takes a second to swallow all that cake.

“What else do you see?” he says when you are both settled. He is relaxed from all the giggling.

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying to keep a straight face as you remember the cannibalism conversation, supposing he might not want to hear that precisely.

“When you look at me,” he says. He tips his chin as if striking a pose. “Tell me my fortune.”

“I’m not a psychic,” you say, nudging his shoulder, but nonetheless you oblige and strike your own pose, a finger on your chin as you consider him. “Hmmm.” You look him up and down, the showman smile, the little crumb of cake on his lip. “I think you’re very smart and very handsome,” you start.

“I like it so far,” he says.

Smiling, you roll your eyes. “And,” you say, “I think you know your strengths and how to use them to make people look at you. Or at least – to look at what you want them to see.” You watch his brow furrow, his hand disappearing into the length of his sleeve as his fingers curl up. “I think you have more going on than anyone knows,” you say. “And I think those parts of you might be the best, and I’m sorry that you have someone telling you it’s the part you have to hide.” His gaze is cast low at nothing in particular. It seems to scan the floor thoughtfully. You laugh to brighten the mood. “Parents,” you say. “Image. Expectation. Whatever.”

“Yeah.” He smiles at you again. It is not one of his fake, smarmy grins, but it is not his carefree smile either. It is polite, and it doesn’t reach his eyes, darkly reflecting a familiar sadness back to you. “Whatever,” he echoes. Then he stands straight and offers his hand, his face once more shielded with a showy, flirtatious demeanour. “Wanna dance?”

You do, and it pleases the parents, and the night passes. You and Hyunjin share an amiable glance before going your separate ways.

When you arrive home, Felix is sitting in the kitchen reading a book for school. He is not obliged to do the readings but he seems to enjoy it, certainly more than you. You never thought you would be so happy to see such a simple sight, Felix at the counter with a book. Fortunately, you are a smart enough to mask your enthusiasm around your father.

You don’t have to worry because your father pays you no mind. With your purpose evidently served, your father dismisses you for the night and calls Felix to his office for a debriefing.

You step inside your walk-in closet to change clothes. You frown at your dress, once more thinking about all those romance stories. If the dress had a zipper, you would need help, then you could ask Felix to unzip it, and it would be an excuse to initiate contact without you truly propositioning him. But the dress slides off easily, so you put on shorts and a t-shirt, then you are sitting in bed scrolling on your phone.

You are in a good mood as you usually are when you get back from a party, happy it is over. The energy you stored to endure the socializing can now simmer to a pleasant hum. You are also extra happy to see Felix after dreading his demise all night. Those worries seem silly now. You will always need a bodyguard and Felix is reliable.

Then you feel terrible for thinking that, because you should want Felix to go. He should not be here at all, trapped with you in this nightmare. Then you start thinking about Felix and his past nightmares. If Felix disappeared without a trace one day, it would not be to freedom. It might be to something worse again.

Even though you feel uneasy, gazing at his empty side of the bed, you fall asleep before Felix returns. You wake in the darkness to Felix leaning over you. He carefully extracts your phone to place it on the bedside table. You fell asleep awkwardly slumped, clutching it.

You are barely awake, still half-dreaming about him disappearing, about what worse nightmares might chase him from your arms. You wrap yourself around him completely, arms around his middle, head on his chest, leg curled around his, the totality of your embrace surprising him. He chuckles, a low sound that vibrates in his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, settling as comfortably as he can with you twisted around him like an amorous vine.

“Nothing,” you mumble into his shirt. “Just missed you.”

“It was just one night,” he says.

“Mmph,” is your sleepy rejoinder. You reach for his hand and slap it onto your back, groaning. He gets the message and strokes your back with a gentle sweep. You start to doze again, snuggled and warm, then he clears his throat. You recognize the sound as his warm-up to vocalizing something awkward.

“I guess, uhhh, I guess things went well… with Hyunjin… tonight, yeah?” he says. He clears his throat again. “Your father gave me an itinerary for future dates and arrangements…”

“I’m gonna blow this fucking house up,” you grumble.

He chuckles. His touch is absent-minded now, a lazy caress as his attention strays.

“Did he, uh, did he… kiss you?” Felix asks. His hand stops altogether, freezing low on your spine. “Not that I—I’m just wondering. Because of what you said before. It’s, like, a big deal to girls I guess, right. So I wasn’t sure—”

“No, Felix,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I’m still very unkissed and very pathetic, so don’t worry about my honour.”

You lift your head to give him a withering stare, but his face is very close and he is already looking at you. You have not spoken about the previous morning. Every second comes rushing back when you meet his eye, when his gaze flickers down to your mouth for a brief but hypnotizing second.

“You’re not pathetic,” he says, just above a whisper. That ridiculous voice of his rumbles so low when he speaks this softly. It’s like the sound is directly connected to something inside you, tugging when he speaks, waking up every sleeping nerve.

“Sure,” you reply, at a loss for any other retort.

His mouth is a perfect bow. You look away from it, resorting to your natural expression: a glare, intensely and resolutely locked on his eyes.

“Well, I’ve never kissed anyone,” Felix says, drole. “Am I pathetic?”

“That’s different,” you say, not meaning anything by it. It’s an automatic response, meant to simply dismiss his very good point.

But you feel him tense. The silence feels heavy. You belatedly realize how he might have interpreted that. That’s different because you’re not a person like the rest of us.

You are trying to think of an appropriate apology when he gently moves you, shaking himself free of your embrace.

“You should sleep over there tonight,” he says. “Your father is home and I’m— I’m. I should be over here. Anyway.”

He turns over, putting his back to you. Even though it feels like your whole head is on fire, you muster the resolve to slide closer. Then you lean over and kiss his cheek.

You flop onto your back and stare at the ceiling.

“Sorry,” you say.

You look at him but he hasn’t moved. Your lips are tingling from that simple, stupid touch and you feel so ridiculous that you want to shriek. You suffice to close your eyes, shaking your head like that will erase the last sixty seconds of your life. You look at the ceiling again, face twisted up with pain.

That falls away when Felix flips over. He was so still and so quiet that it genuinely startles you. You swear your heart stops when he leans over you with a determined expression, one you usually only see when he is working out hard. Your stopped breath is a cluster in your throat, your voice tangled in it. Your mouth is open and eyes wide when he cups the back of your neck and lifts your head.

Your heart starts all over again, pumping so fast that you are scared it will leap right out of your chest.

He leans down. He kisses your forehead for one second, two, three. You count it. Your fingers curl up. Your eyes feel huge. You look at him when he pulls away, his expression morose. He does not meet your gaze.

“I’m sorry too,” he says.

He lays your head on your pillow and rolls away, his back to you once more.

You fall asleep on opposite sides of the huge bed, so close and so far. Your sleep is fitful and uneasy and you keep waking to check if he is still there.

It is very early when you fully wake, the pale blue of morning only just seeping into the gloaming. It is a quiet hour but despite its gentle ambiance, you are woken with a fright. You settle when you realize it is just Felix grabbing you. He crossed the bed to gather you into his arms, mumbling an apology but nonetheless wrapping himself around you.

You realize he had a nightmare. He has not had one in a while. Your back is to him so you reach around to pat him consolingly.

You shiver when he exhales, his warm breath brushing the back of your neck, but you do not linger on the sensation. The previous morning and all its stirrings are far from mind now. He is upset so you comfort him, simple as that, letting him wrap his arms around your middle and rest his head against yours. Your thighs sit neatly against his, bodies slotted together neatly, like it is the most natural place to be.

“Can you, uhh, just…” He clears his throat. “Can you talk… to me… please.”

Felix does not like to talk about his nightmares but he does like a distraction. You are the same. There are times you wake in a fit and he speaks in a soft voice to lull you back to rest. Your voice is not as unique as his, lacking the deep dulcet colour, but he seems to like listening anyway.

You tell him about the party, all the frivolous details and gossip. Two women wore the same dress, what a scandal, someone dropped a pearl earring, what a loss. This couple broke up, that couple is having an affair. Miroh was there and predictably austere the entire night—

Felix was beginning to relax but he tightens his grip when you mention Miroh.

Your voice trails off.

Your father has many enemies but Miroh is his only true rival. You are not directly involved in any business but you pay attention to your father and his work. You know about the political bribery and the underhanded dealings and the illegal trading. You know Miroh is the same except he is also a military man, that he has dark connections and turns a profit on some very backward schemes. Of course, your father depicts his rival as a worse villain than himself, so it is hard to say precisely what Miroh does, but you know the look of a bad man regardless.

You have suspected for some time that Miroh played a part in Felix’s dark past. You do not know what or how or why, as you have never pushed Felix to tell you, but you know Felix well. Your father has many enemies and Felix is always alert, but Miroh receives extra vigilance. Every trace of your companion will disappear before your eyes, replaced with an emotionless soldier.

You feel all that tension in his body now. He is holding his breath.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask in a small voice. It is a vague admittance to your suppositions.

A little tension leaves his body with a humourless laugh, the breath bursting on your neck.

“No,” he says. “Not… not right now.”

“Okay,” you reply. There is a moment of silence. Your heart is beating hard, his pounding as fast, his chest pressed against your back. You shift in his lap. “What do you want then?”

That laugh again, a little more pained. Then he sighs.

“I don’t know,” he says in a rough voice. “Just… distract me.”

Just like that, the energy shifts, at least inside of you. You know very well what would distract him, having witnessed the other morning just how to rattle your bodyguard. The recollection alone has you flushed with heat, embarrassed and nervous and exhilarated all at the same time.

It has always been hard for you to do the simple, normal thing. You cannot smile for a long time, you cannot make pleasant small talk, you cannot kiss the boy you like. But the difficult feats, the outlandish actions, those you have always done with ease. You argue with your terrifying father, you break out of cages, you throw yourself into dangerous situations with little sense of self-preservation.

You cannot turn and sweet-talk him. You cannot lean over and kiss him. You cannot smile and implore him.

You can stare ahead through the pale light, warm with memory and fantasy alike, and slide your hand down between your legs. With a little swivel of your hips, you press against his lap. The effect is remarkably instantaneous, the adrenaline of his fears seemingly diverting course at the merest suggestion.

He makes a choked noise, then his hand is overtop yours. You always forget how strong he is, all that hidden power and dexterity. He clutches your hand with ungiving control, down between your legs, over your shorts, preventing you from going further.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, his stern voice as affecting as a touch. It makes you whimper.

His hips shift. His baggy shorts do little for modesty and you can feel him twitch with interest, stiffening against your backside. You try to move your hand but he pins your wrist and says your name warningly.

“I won’t touch you,” you whisper. “You don’t have to touch me.”

“Other people are home—”

“Then stop talking and be quiet,” you say. It is always easier to be brazen when you are arguing or asserting a point, so when he releases your hand, you slide it into your shorts without a second thought. It is only once you’re there that you realize you don’t really know what you’re doing. Your belligerence only takes you so far.

Then Felix breathes a surrendering sigh. He squeezes your hips with trembling hands and rolls away, onto his back. You spill onto your back too and look at him. You feel vulnerable and uncertain until he closes his eyes and touches himself through his shorts. The sight makes it easy to stir a reaction under your clumsy fingers, watching his hand cup and stroke the shape of himself through his shorts. You slip the other hand down there too, spreading yourself to your own exploratory touch. You press and rub and circle, your heartbeat thundering erratically when he opens his eyes and looks at you.

Your lips part but you withhold all noise, breathing hard into the dark as his hand dips under his waistband. His eyes are cast low to where your own hands move under your clothes, your fingers moving more frantically than his lazy stroking.

When you finally find a place and pattern that feels right, your breathing gets heavier, a soft whine slipping into your exhale. His reflexes are quick as ever. His arm slips under your head and curls around your neck, hand covering your mouth to catch the surprised yelp that passes your lips.

“Shh,” he says.

And for some reason that takes you over the building crest. Your body curls, tight as coil even while a white heat unravels inside you. You gasp into his palm, eyes closing, swallowing down your own sounds.

You are still twitching with aftershocks when you grab his hand with your very wet fingers. You are not thinking about that, you are still hazy and powered by instinct, prying his hand off your face.

But he realizes it. He makes another choked-up sound and looks at the closed door, his breathing coming out hard through his nose. He pulls his arm back, closes his eyes. His hand, wet with you, just hovers for a second.

You watch him. His mouth is open and his eyes are closed and his hair is falling in a messy sweep around his handsome face. You are slow in your approach, giving him time to open his eyes, to see your own hand near his face.

He exhales sharply and his eyes close tight. He grabs your hand and pulls it to his mouth, your own sex pulsing with renewed interest when he licks across your fingers then lets two curl into his mouth, just resting on his tongue. He finishes a second later, shoulders hunching and face screwed up, freckles dancing like a dark constellation.

You bring your shaking hand to your own lips, tentatively kissing the fingers he had in his mouth. He blinks his eyes open slowly, gazing at the ceiling for a second then looking at you. When he sees you, your lips pursed against your fingertips, his mouth opens and closes with some unspoken thought, desperate to vocalize. In the end he swallows it down and closes his eyes. He nods sharply.

“Okay,” he says, his voice ragged. “Thank you. Sleep. You should… You should. Um. I’ll just—”

He shakes his head and rolls out of bed, then darts into the bathroom. The shower starts. You look at your clock and see you have more than an hour to your alarm.

You lay your head on your pillow but you do not fall back asleep.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

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pleasinghellfire · 1 year

Text

Time After Time

summary: you just wanted to go to prom with Eddie

word count: 1.4k

“Are you excited for prom?” Robin asked, bumping your hip as you made your way to the cafeteria.

“Oh yes! I got the perfect dress a couple of weeks ago!” You smiled brightly. You were nearly bouncing over how passionate you were for the annual end of the year celebration.

“Did Eddie even ask you yet?” Nancy questioned as she held open the door so you and Robin could walk into the loud lunchroom. Hawkins was rowdy as ever as prom was just around the corner. Everyone was ready for school to end and summer to begin.

“Yeah, ummm…he hasn’t.” You hesitated as the girls looked back at you with shock.

“What?” Nancy shouted.

“He is such a dingus!” Robin shook her head, turning and walking towards your normal table with determination. Nancy started to follow.

“Wait! Wait, please!” You pleaded, reaching out for Nancy’s arm holding her back. “He hasn’t asked me yet but I’m sure he will. Prom is only next week. There's still time.”

“Okay but if he doesn’t ask you soon you can’t get upset if I whack him on his big head.” Robin wrapped her arm around you as you two walked step by step towards the table with the rest of the gang.

“Robin!” Dustin called out. “Please come tell Jeff that he is wrong and three musketeers is the best candy!”

You laughed as you quickly gave Eddie a peck of his cheek and sat in the empty chair to his left. He was in an intense conversation with Gareth over his campaign for Hellfire.

BOOP!

A string of balloons lifted up to the ceiling while two football players stood on top of the table holding out a sign saying “PROM?”

“Yes!” The cheerleader cried out as she jumped into her date’s arms. The filled room roared in applause and praise.

“Oh come on!” Eddie gagged.

“What Munson?” Mike joked. “Disgusted by prom?”

“Quite literally actually.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, his face still scrunched up in disgust at the prom goers basking in their cheers.

“Is prom not metal enough for you Eddie?” Nancy challenged.

“Prom is stupid.” Eddie laughed. Nancy and Robin watched as your shoulders dropped in defeat, slowly losing the hope of ever going to prom with Eddie. The rest of the gang gave each other a shared glance, knowing how much you wanted to go to the dance with your boyfriend.

“Prom is just forced conformity, that’s what’s killing the kids. I’m just ready to run like hell out of here. I’d lose my mind dancing with people who call me a freak for enjoying a fantasy game.”

“Well everyone deserves to enjoy prom at least once.”

“Yeah, well not me Sinclair.” Eddie shrugged off, taking a bite of his food.

You pushed back your chair, gathered all your books for your next class and exited the room. You left your friends behind as they all collectively threw their belongings at the metal head.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell?” Eddie shouted.

“You’re such a dumbass Munson!”

*****

It was the night of prom and you were home in your pjs. Eddie never got around to asking you, which hurt your feelings. You sort of gave Eddie the cold shoulder since his little confession at lunch last week and he hasn’t yet figured out why. You still laughed as your friends harassed him everyday, throwing things at his head or calling him names. You loved Eddie but damn, he could be an idiot sometimes. You understood why Eddie didn’t care for prom but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want to show off your hot boyfriend to everyone at Hawkins. You longed for the night to get all dolled up in your pretty dress you knew Eddie would love and dance the night away with him, saying goodbye to Hawkins High forever.

You laid in bed, turning the page in the book you were barely paying attention to when you heard a loud knock on your door. You looked out of your window to see Nancy and Robin waving at you from below.

You rushed downstairs and opened the door to them. They were each holding their dresses in their arms as Nancy pushed past you into your home.

“What are you two doing here? You should be on your way to the dance right now?”

“Yeah, and you should be getting your butt back up to your room to get that amazing dress on and come with us!” Nancy exclaimed, trying to push you back towards the stairs.

“What? Wait!” You laughed. “What about Ed-”

“Ah! No! Nope! Nope!” Robin covered your mouth snickering. “We are not saying that dingus’ name. We are going to prom, just us girls and we are going to have fun. Okay?”

You looked between your two wonderful friends and let out a chuckle, “Okay!”

“Okay! Now hurry up, get dressed! We’re going to prom!”

You laughed and ran upstairs to get changed.

*****

By the time the three of you made it to Hawkins, the dance was already in commence. Quickly making your way to the middle of the gymnasium floor to catch up on all the missed moments of fun. Losing track of the time, you made your way off the dancefloor, getting a drink from the refreshments table and headed to sit on the extended bleachers for a break.

Soon the ambiance of the atmosphere slowed down, the lights dimming down as the dj merged the upbeat song into “Time After Time” by Cyndi Laupner. You sadly took a sip from your beverage looking away from the couples swaying to the beginning song. You wished Eddie was here.

Looking down, you caught sight of the familiar scuffed up white high top Reeboks that stop ahead of you.

“Sorry I’m late sweetheart.” You looked up to see Eddie. He had his curly hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck. His usual Hellfire Club shirt was swapped out for a white button down. You were surprised to see he owned a pair of pants without rips or tears.

“Can I please have the honor of a dance, my lady?” Eddie bowed his head down, extending his hand out to you. You smiled as you accepted his offer.

He led you to the center of the gym, turning around and placing his hands on your waist. You raised your hands to place them around his neck. Eddie pulled you in close, rocking back and forth to the beat.

flashbacks, warm nights almost left behind

“I didn’t think you would ever come. How did you know I was here?” You whispered.

“Henderson told me. For a kid, he has wicked arm strength, little shit.” You laughed as he rubbed the back of his head, letting out a little whine in pain.

sometimes you picture me, i’m walking too far ahead

“I’m sorry.” Eddie apologized, brushing back a strand of your hair. “I should have asked you to prom properly. I’m a terrible boyfriend. I mean look at you, you’re the most metal I’ve ever seen.” Eddie shook his head, pulling back to take in your dark black lace dress.

secrets stolen from deep inside, the drum beats out of time

“You’re not a terrible boyfriend, Eds. I mean look at us, look at you! We’re dancing at prom!” You smiled softly at him.

if you’re lost you can look and you will find me

“I feel like I’m losing my mind dancing with the prettiest girl in all of Hawkins High.” Eddie mumbled, looking down at you with love.

if you fall, i will catch you, i will be waiting

“I’m so proud of you baby. You didn’t run away this time. It’s finally your year. Never change Munson.”

Eddie pulled you in, closing the distance and placing his lips on yours.

time after time

time after time…

#pleasinghellfire #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn imagine #hellfire club

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ladylooch · 4 months

Text

Odds were against us - John Marino

A/N: My submission for @wyattjohnston Winter Fic Exchange 2k24! This is the first time I have participated in a fic exchange and wow has it been really fun for me! Thank you so much, Demi, for being a gracious host and your rockstar organization!

@pcttymcrlecu I hope you love this as much as I enjoyed creating it for you. Also, I am IN LOVE with the song inso for this. I listened to it on repeat the entire time I was working on this. Thank you for sharing 🥰

Song Inspo: Solider by James TW

Word Count: 2.5k

The odds were against you.

Well, maybe not right away. You did grow up two houses down from each other.

But once you moved away for college, the world seemed to keep you apart as much as it flirted with the idea that you two could be together.

Growing up, it was the Masschusettes version of the three musketeers: John, Paul, and you. There was never a Marino brother around without you. Living on the same street had great perks, like a hockey net to shoot at, a ton of legos, and endless nights spent on their backyard play set.

From the beginning, John and you had a connection. Even as his twin brother was supposed to know him the best, you always seemed to be on the same page with your buddy. For years growing up, you and John had been tango-ing with will they, won't they, before he went to Harvard and you went to theUniversity of Pittsburgh. The next three years, every time you were both home, the tango continued. Both dating other people, never wanting to ruin the friendship, finding excuses for why you could never talk about the elephant in the room.

Then, John left Harvard after his junior year to play for the Pittsburgh Penguins. You were thrilled to show him the city! You took him to your favorite restaurants and introduced him to your college friends. It was you sitting next to his brother and his parents, in a freshly pressed Marino jersey, as he did his solo rookie lap in black and yellow.

It was you who left Pittsburgh a year later.

While others in your major wanted to be at Google and Microsoft, you wanted to use your computer science degree for good. When the call came for your dream job at the National Renewable Energy Laboratory in Golden, Colorado, you knew you had to decide. You loved John, but he didn’t know, and it was hard to imagine a life where you stayed on the sidelines for potential. So before you decided, you nudged the situation to see what John would say when he was faced with the possibility of losing you.

“I got a job offer!” You exclaimed to him at happy hour.

“Whoa! Of course you did! You’re so cool.” He puts his chin in his hand, giving you googly, heart eyes in admiration. He is joking, but it puts a silly smile on your face. He sits back up, taking a sip of his beer, waiting expectantly. “So tell me everything. Will you get an office? How close will you work to the arena? And can I come to have lunch with you every day because that is a requirement. We have spent too much time apart.” Your stomach drops out of your body. You look away, taking in a heavy breath.

“That is the one downside.” You bite your lip, then continue. “It’s not here.”

“Oh? Is it like out in the boonies or Philly?”

“No. Like Colorado.”

Surprise slaps across John’s face. Then he looks away, trying to gather himself quickly.

“But you just got here and maybe I shouldn’t go...” You trail off. You hold your breath, wanting John to say something. You know this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. But a yearning inside of you begs for John to tell you to stay with him in Pittsburgh.

“You should go. This is everything you’ve been wanting. You deserve this.” John’s words are everything he should say, but they fucking sting. Tears build in your eyes and you nod. “I’m proud of you.” John finishes with a dainty whisper. He licks his lips, looking away. “Look at us.” He tries for a laugh but it comes out like a cough. “Both of our dreams are coming true.”

You want to ask him why it feels like your chest is imploding?

But you don’t.

Instead, you hug your childhood best friend while telling yourself how selfish it would be to confess you’re in love with him before you go

- - -

Three years later, so much has changed since you hugged John on that bar stool. You have been promoted twice and received national recognition for your work in solar energy. John had rough seasons in Pittsburgh, but has found a new, comfortable place in New Jersey. Paul is with the L.A. Kings in California. You make it a point to meet up with John and Paul when John visits on his West Coast road trips. John and you connect when he is in Colorado. When you’re back home, you make the commute to Jersey and fly home out of Newark. Otherwise, you’re texting daily, sending GIFs and memes and tiktoks back and forth while keeping each other abreast of your busy life.

You’re closer than ever. More in love with him than ever too. But how would it ever work?

The repetitive thoughts consume you as you stir the queso you had been making for your taco night at your new home in Golden. It has been a long, competitive process to get this house, but you are so proud of it. A dream home to match the dream job that the dream boy will see tonight.

A knock sounds on the door. The dream boy waits for you on the other side of the wood.

“Hi!” You squeal when you see John. “Welcome to MY home!”

“Uh, Ma’am, where is the owner of this home? You’re too young and single? It couldn’t be you?” He jokes, then pulls you in for a tight hug. “Thought we could celebrate.” He tilts the bottle of wine at you. It is nothing fancy. In fact, it's Cook’s, the bottle you two had stolen from your parents’ bar to have after prom on the beach.

“Let’s get this expensive gal in a nice lil ice bath.”

“There is nothing nice about an ice bath. Or that wine.” He snorts, shrugging his coat off.

“You can put that in the closet right there.” You point to his right. He opens the door, settling his jacket between two of yours. A warmth spreads through your body at his clothes mingling together with yours, gathering each other's scents.

“Don’t dawdle in the doorway, Johnny. Come into my kitchen!” You’re giddy as John's sock covered feet slide across your wood floors to join you in the open, modern space.

“Gas range?” John oos and aws at all the fixtures you show him. He hypes and gasps at all the right moments. Your cheeks hurt from grinning as you become Vanna White against your refrigerator.

“Go best friend!” He cheers as you do a little spin and dance for him. You laugh at the end.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” You tell him honestly.

“Me too. Glad we got in early.” He opens his arms for you. The weight of you settles against his chest, creating a bonded connection. John squeezes tight, his chin on the top of your head. He works you both into a sway, enjoying the weight of each other’s arms. This version of John is your favorite. The one who blurs the lines between best friends and lovers. You breathe in the fresh scent of his cologne, then wait, making him be the one to break your embrace.

“So is there an upstairs?” He wonders.

“There is! They gave me two whole levels!”

“What! Scam. It’s all a scam.”

“Look at my wall of pictures.” You point out as you head up the stairs. There is a whole gallery wall of frames and people, many of which John is in. Paul too.

“I know these people!” He grins, looking at their decades of memories. “My favorite night.” He points to a picture. It’s the New Year's Eve you were pretty sure you almost kissed.

“Mmm, it’s up there for sure.” You agree, waiting for him. His eyes trace the memory like he wants to burn it into the membrane of his brain. Then he turns to you, grabbing your hand and leading you up the stairs, becoming the tour guide.

“So up here we have uh…” He looks around. “An office!”

“Oh! And a standing desk?! She works on her fitness.” You fill in.

“We have very different definitions of fitness.”

“I hope so, NHL player.”

“And over here,” He tugs you by your fingers. “We have a guest room. You would never have blue as your color. It is not boring enough. This can’t be your room.”

“Shut up! I love neutrals! They’re in!” You shove at him as he howls with laughter.

“Paul’s room for when he comes to visit. Your parents and sister too.” You can’t help but notice John doesn’t include himself in that.

“Oh here we go.” He gets to your room, pushing the cracked door open to expose your favorite space in the house. He pauses in the doorway, taking it in.

Two lamps on either side of the bed illuminate the room as the sun sets behind the mountains outside. Your white walls are warmed by their dim light. The bed is made with a plush, white comforter and a light tan blanket draped along the foot of the bed. The walls had been painted the faintest of olive green. Various shades of cream and tan pillows create the look of a bed you want to jump into to mess it all up. A black and white picture of waves sliding onto a Nantucket beach is above the headboard.

John has gone still and silent. You are nervous as he continues to look around the comfy oasis you have created as your escape from the world. You were meticulous in your quest for homey, comfort items that would dull the sometimes harsh world out there. Does he hate it?

“What do you think?” You finally ask.

“Honestly?” He murmurs.

“Yes!” You giggle, trying to cross the distance you feel separating you.

“I wish this was our house.”

You freeze. John keeps looking at the bed, eyes ravenous over the clean bedding like he is seeing something else.

“I wish this was our bed.” He sighs. “I wish I was the one who got to sleep here with you because this is so clearly your dream house and I wish I was your dream man.” He stands there with his hands in his pockets, still not looking at you. This is when you realize he really doesn’t know. How does he not know?

“You are.” You whisper.

It’s John’s turn to be still and dumbfounded.

“You’re my dream man, Johnny.”

You bite your lip and John rushes towards you. His hands grip your face, tugging you into his lips. Your head falls back, delirious at his mouth finally being on yours. He holds your head up, working his lips to an angle so his tongue can devour your mouth. You never want to breathe again. His tongue and lips on yours are everything you’ve ever wanted. How will you stop?

Need takes over and you break apart begrudgingly. John rests his forehead on yours, thumbs delicately stroking your cheek bones.

“I’m in love with you, Johnny.”

“Good. Cause I am deliriously in love with you. And I’m sick of not telling you that every day.” You grin, inhaling heavily as tears fill your eyes.

“How are we going to do this?”

“I don’t know.” John sighs, gripping your face tighter in his fingers, like that will stop the rest of reality from intruding on your moment.

“I’m scared. We live so far apart. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“We’ll have to be brave, sweetheart.”

Being brave is your second act.

The next 6 months you navigate the journey from friends to lovers while trying to mitigate the 1,700 miles that separate you. A 2 hour time zone difference weighs heavily on your relationship, along with two careers that threaten to ground you before your relationship even has a chance to take off. Then the off-season comes and John decides to train in Colorado with local NHL players at altitude, convinced it will give him that next step in his game.

The season begins again and your bed is as empty as it was before. You’re miserable. Lonelier than you’ve ever been and it spews mean thoughts in your brain at all hours of the night. John feels the same. You both discuss it openly, but neither of you have solutions for this next roadblock. Something will have to give, you both know it, but neither of you can speak it.

Right before Thanksgiving, your fist feels heavy against his Jersey City apartment door. He isn’t expecting you, but the relieved sigh when he has you in his arms tells you how welcome you are here. He ushers you in, pasting his lips against your skin as you try to set your bag down.

“What are you doing here?”

“Accepting my job offer.” John bolts up.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, babe. Don’t do this for me.”

“I’m not going to pretend it isn’t because of you. Of course it is. But this is a really good career move for me too. We can have it all.”

“Your house-”

“-will always just be my house. I’m ready to upgrade to our house.” You lock your hands around his neck, fingers guzzling up every bit of warmth from his skin. “I know what I want to do in my life and it’s to be where you are.” John groans then hugs you into his chest desperately.

In another month, you cut those 1700 miles down to 0. You and John move into your new place together. While you’re unpacking the neutral bedroom decor he makes fun of, John walks in then pops down to one knee.

“Can’t wait another minute.” He confesses. “I’ve been downstairs trying to talk myself out of doing it and why? For what? Because there isn’t an audience? There isn’t a photographer? Your nails aren’t done? That’s not us. This is us. So, marry me?” Your bottom lip quivers. A blink sends tear tracks down your face as you nod enthusiastically, telling the man, who is still your dream boy, “YES” you will marry him!

The wedding is a fast plan, you need to do it in the off-season and neither of you care for anything super fancy anyway. It’s a quaint ceremony on a similar Nantucket beach that hangs above your now shared bed. You and John stare in awe as you take turns reciting written vows that may as well be a decades long love letter to each other.

“Let’s keep betting on us, baby.” John finishes. You laugh, nodding vigorously.

When it’s time to seal the deal, John winds his hand around your waist, then tilts you down, kissing you so fully that you’re dazed when he brings you back up.

Like it has for thousands of years, a kiss between two lovers seals your fate.

It’s been decided.

A forever commitment.

One that binds you and John as partners, who keep bending the odds and winning anyway.

#the winter fic exchange 2k24 #John Marino x reader #John Marino Imagine #NHL imagine

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signalburst · 5 days

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Shōgun Historical Shallow-Dive: Part 1

Does everybody else's heart hurt? Good! Let's get learning. These characters and the people that inspired them all deserve their own post, but here's a quick one if you're wondering what happened. This is a shallow-dive because the history is extremely complicated, and a condensed version of just the events leading up to Sekigahara (the battle depicted in the finale) take up entire volumes of history. I'll do my best to answer questions about what happened to our three protagonists, in the show, as well as real life 🙇

One note: given I'm not a professional historian, I've got no obligation to not have biases and favourites. I've tried to keep most of them out of this, but if you want to punish yourself by trying to keep track of who's who in the Azuchi-Momoyama period, this book is the best English-language overview.

What happened to Toranaga (Tokugawa Ieyasu)?

Gif: @yocalio

I am not as strong as I might be, but I have long known and practiced patience. And if my descendants wish to be as I am, they must study patience. - from The Legacy of Ieyasu Tokugawa

In the book, Toranaga reveals that it had been his aspiration to be Shōgun from the very beginning. That was what drove his alliance with the Taiko, that was what drove his feigned alliance with the Heir.

History follows a very similar path. I re-read some chapters on the battle of Sekigahara last night, and there is no easy way to explain it, but: the result of Sekigahara (an enormous, two-day battle with 200,000 samurai and ashigaru warriors in the field) was an enormous victory for Tokugawa, Toranaga's real-life counterpart.

Years - sometimes decades - of scheming by Tokugawa had made Ishido/Ishida's Western Alliance completely fragmented. In the months leading up to the period displayed in the show, Toranaga was calling in a lifetime of marriage alliances, diplomatic advantage, defensive pacts and childhood friends who'd risen to high status. Re-reading the sources, the names of all the lords of all the important fiefs and castles makes my head spin, let alone the ones that turned out to be pivotal to Toranga/Tokugawa's victory. But it was a resounding victory, and by both the numbers and the disposition of forces, he should have lost.

Historians have a consensus that if the 'Western forces' of the Heir had have fought together with a unified command structure, they would have won, easily. But they didn't - orders from Ishido/Ishida were ignored, Toranaga/Tokugawa endured onslaughts, and the Regents' opposing armies eventually fractured and melted away. This was a last-of-an-era battle. Families were fighting on either side, every single unit that could be brought to bear was on the field. It is no exaggeration to say Sekigahara is one of the few, unambiguous battles upon which the beginning of a historical era came down to.

Toranaga/Tokugawa triumphed because he spent decades building unity of purpose and strong alliances, simultaneously sowing division amongst the Regents, who ultimately balked at being commanded by a bureaucrat like Ishido/Ishida. Whilst there was no one decisive moment of an extremely bloody, rainy, two-day battle, the fact that Ishido/Ishida's forces refused to be told what to do by someone of lower status was the main theme of their defeat. A crucial army stationed on the hill stayed still, refusing to commit to either side, until Toranaga/Tokugawa fired muskets into their ranks. They made up their mind, and attacked Ishido/Ishida's Western army. Ishido/Ishida's one trick of firing a flare to commit the reserve army didn't work. The commander ignored it. Instead of being there to fight for something, Ishido/Ishida's coalition was there to oppose someone. They all had different reasons. And ultimately, the man that brought them together didn't command enough respect to command a battle.

As our show Toranaga said, the Regents fell upon each other. He might have been a bit optimistic about how and why this would happen (they fell over each other in retreat, and it took two days of horrific combat), but it happened. Tokugawa Ieyasu was famous for richly rewarding former enemies, and most of those he defeated kept their heads. This reputation is a strong incentive for leaving the field when things start going Tokugawa's way.

The two exceptions were Ishido/Ishida, and Kiyama/Konishi, both beheaded in Osaka (Ishido, bizarrely, was upbeat about his fate, until seconds before the sword came down). Killing Ishida was the obvious move, as the man schemed and bitched so much he caused a civil war. Killing Konishi was more calculated - it opened up his trade-hub in Kyushu to being ruled by a fervent Buddhist daimyo and ally of Tokugawa.

Toranaga/Tokugawa forces soon captured Osaka Castle after the battle of Sekigahara, and with it, the Heir.

Toranaga/Tokugawa 'reluctantly' accepted the Imperial appointment of Shōgun three years later, in 1603. In 1605, he abidcated, passing the title to his most malleable and competent son, Hidetada. He was the real power behind the throne and ruled until his death in 1616.

The year before he died, he was able to fully secure his legacy. The Heir (in real life, Toyotomi Hideyori) had begun to gather daimyo to Osaka castle who were opposed to Tokugawa. Tokugawa used the flimsiest of pretexts - the opening of a shrine - to order the Heir out of the castle. He refused, Tokugawa forces besieged the castle - twice. The first one was called off because cannon fire nearly killed Ochiba no kata, and she pushed her son to sue for peace. By the second siege, there would be no peace: the Tokugawa forces defeated all oppoosition, and secured the legacy.

Toranaga/Tokugawa's descendants would rule for 250 years of internal peace and external lock-down of the country from barbarians (and Christians), except for limited trade.

The big question: did Toranaga/Tokugawa really want to be Shōgun from the start? History tells us, rather unambiguously, yes - before the campaign, he was writing his 100 Articles for ruling Japan, which would be instrumental for his family holding on to power and preventing internal strife. His plan may well have gone back to his formative, teenage years. At the very least, it is highly likely it was solidified when Toranaga/Tokugawa was a vassal of the Dictator Koroda/Oda Nobunaga - the man Mariko/Hosokawa Gracia's father assassinated, who was brutal even by the standards of the day. We don't have time for him, the Taiko, and Mariko's father today - but my opinion is that the motherfucker firmly deserved to be assassinated, and the only amazing thing is that the inspiration for Mariko's father was able to hold off for so long.

But that killing set off a chain of events that would lead to Toranaga/Tokugawa becoming sole ruler of a unified Japan. So much of history is contingent on individual actors and random events. It didn't have to happen. It was extremely unlikely. But, through patience (and by my reckoning, a lot of luck), he made the world he wanted to see. Whether that was worth the price in lives is for the reader to decide.

But by all accounts, Toranaga/Tokugawa died very satisfied in the knowledge that his legacy was secure, his realm was unified, and, finally, at peace.

What happened to Mariko (Hosokowa Gracia)?

Gif: @yocalio

As is probably obvious, Mariko's purpose was fulfilled before the conclusion of the show. As is also probably obvious, her historical counterpart - Hosokowa Gracia - did not have an affair with an English sea pilot (😢). She did, however, change Japanese history, and tipped the balance of noble support towards Toranaga/Tokugawa. Her death had meaning.

The framing of her marriage to Buntaro and exile after her father's successful assassination of a brutal dictator is almost exactly correct. She was one of the most desirable, valued and accomplished young noblewomen of the day. The stain of the name Akechi would haunt her for the rest of her life. Real life Buntaro, Hosokowa Tadaoki, genuinely sent her away for two years to save her life. The Hosokowa family even went so far as to pretend that she had died, to save her from the Taiko's vengeance. Whilst her marriage was an unhappy one (though not, as far as is known, abusive), she was beloved by the head of the Hosokowa clan, the show's Hiromatsu. They went to extraordinary lengths to keep her safe.

Her main comfort in her life was her faith. It's perhaps here that we get the strongest through-line from Hosokowa Gracia to Mariko - unafraid, intelligent, and fierce.

She first came to learn about Christianity from her Christian maid, who extolled the virtue of the faith, and the opportunities for intellectual stimulation theological discussion could bring. In 1587 (five years after her father assassinated the dictator, three years after she returned from exile), she decided to take action on it. She snuck out of Osaka Castle and visited the main church in Osaka - she had lively conversations with the elderly Father-Visitor, and was an excellent pupil of both Portuguese and Latin theological texts. I don't know if you guys have ever tried to read those things, but even in translation, they are torturous. This woman was extremely intelligent.

As a noble woman of the Taiko's court, she knew he was about to issue an edict outlawing Christianity. Being the (excuse the language) absolute fucking badass that she was, she had her maid (baptismal name Maria) baptise her before the edict was issued, transforming from Hosokowa Tama to Hosokowa Gracia. Even though she had to keep her faith a secret due to the Taiko's edict, she found a way to hold on to it. She had a special sake cup made with the Hosokowa mon emblazed on the lip, which, on very close inspection, was actually a Christian cross.

During this time of her religious conversion and education, a primary source from a Jesuit priest says that 'I have never disputed with a woman of such clear judgement, and such definite knowledge.' She was known for being fiercely intelligent, and this is commented on in many European letters and journals that have remained from the Catholic church's time in Japan.

Her relationship with her husband - like Buntaro, a senior retainer of Toranaga/Tokugawa - was frosty. They never reconciled after her father's (Akechi Mitsuhide) rebellion, but her husband did recall her from exile when it was safe to do so, and she lived to serve a very similar purpose to Mariko in the book and show. By virtue of not being an interpreter, she was less close to Toranaga/Tokugawa than in the book and show, but she was still dedicated to her clan and her clan's overlord, as will become clear.

Just as in the show, Hosokowa Gracia agonized at the thought of seppuku putting her soul in mortal danger. But she perceived her duty to be to ensure death before being captured or otherwise dishonoured.

To put it bluntly, Ishido (Ishida in real life) fucked up. Before any military manouvers had begun, he went to seize hostages of friends and enemies alike throughout Osaka castle. His forces tried to forcibly seize Hosokowa Gracia from the family quarters. She gave orders for her senior retainer to kill her, her daughter, and set fire to their section of Osaka Castle, so that none could be taken and subjected to dishonour. She arranged with this samurai to stand on one side of a shoji screen, facing him. He stabbed her through the heart with a naginata. She died, satisfied in the knowledge that:

...the death was not suicide, and her soul would doubtless be spared from the torments of Hell.

Although not doing this directly on the orders of Toranaga/Tokugawa, it's highly likely she knew that she was making a statement (many of the other hostages went quietly). This furthered his cause immensely. Inspired by Hosokowa Gracia, families streamed out of Osaka Castle and other Regent-held castles by any method they could. Her example ignited a firestorm of controversy surrounding the gall of a jumped-up bureaucrat (a reputation Ishido/Ishida would never escape) forcing the death of one of the era's pre-eminent noblewomen. Although her husband was relatively unbothered by her death, her father-in-law - the book/show's Hiromatsu - was furious. Because of Hosokowa Gracia and his granddaughter's death, he immediately fortified his border castle.

He defied a large [Ishido/Ishida] army of 15,000 men with only 500 men of his own.

Many of [Ishido/Ishida's] commanders held [Hosokowa Fujitaka/Hiromatsu] in such high regard that they went through the bare motions of laying siege. On a regular basis, gunners 'accidentally' forgot to load their cannon with iron shot, and so Tanabe Castle's walls reverberated daily to the harmless booming of blank gundpowder explosions. [Ishido/Ishida's] military offensive had launched to a disastrous start.

The siege only ended because of an imperial decree (it's a long story - Fujitaka/Hiromatsu knew an oral tradition special imperial poem that risked dying with him, nobody could refuse the Emperor). More than this, any chance Ishido/Ishida had of convincing skilled and respected generals to commit to his side ended with Fujitaka/Hiromatsu's defiance. Such was the respect that he commanded, and such was the rage he felt at the death of his daughter-in-law, that he worked tirelessly to gather support for Toranaga/Tokugawa, despite his advanced years.

Mariko/Hosokowa Gracia's contribution was an inflection point to what many samurai, busho and daimyo were suspecting - that Ishido/Ishida was a snake bitch who couldn't be trusted (I believe that's the correct historical term). Her actions galvanized resistance against him, and continued to spread the wildfire that would seal his defeat on the battlefield of Sekigahara: 'Why are we taking orders from him?'

Importantly, Hosokowa Gracia's remains were gathered by a Catholic priest, and given a Christian burial in Osaka. From everything we know of her, this would have been very meaningful indeed. Just as with Mariko in the show's depiction, Hosokowa Gracia's death was not senseless or without meaning. It meant something, and continues to resonate through the centuries.

What happened to John Blackthorne (William Adams)?

Gif by @cinematic-gif-archive

The short answer: imagine an alien landed in America. It was smart enough to avoid death. It ended up chief special advisor to Obama, and they became bros. That is William Adams's life.

First things first: Blackthorne stays in Japan. 'Old Rich Blackthorne' scenes are basically fever dreams. I was worried when the episode opened with a flash-forward to an old man living in Tudor comfort. This would be a huge change from both the book, and history. The novel ends with Toranaga confirming that his plan is for Blackthorne to never leave Japan. Blackthorne finds his place there. In history, the same is true of William Adams.

In episode 10, the 'is this a flash-forward?/is this a dream?' question is answered halfway through the episode. Blackthorne drops Mariko's cross over the side with Fuji's family ashes. As soon as that's done, the aged visions of Blackthorne disappear.

For those who are more textual than visual: the episode is titled A Dream of a Dream (a play on the title of the Taiko's death poem). Concussed, grief-stricken Blackthorne is dreaming of the dream he used to have - returning to England with riches and glory, his family name secure, with every comfort Queen Elizabeth the First can offer a pirate-explorer like Sir Francis Drake or Sir Walter Raleigh. But as soon as he lets go of Mariko's cross into the water (earlier, actually, when he sincerely attempted seppuku to try and save the people of Ajiro) that dream stopped appearing. The dream he had of exploiting Japan for riches and glory was gone, replaced with the reality of the life he is left to build.

In the show and the book, Toranaga is explicit about never letting Anjin-sama/Blackthorne leave Japan. If he builds new ships, Toranaga will burn them again. He needs Blackthorne's knowledge, expertise, and - in a bizarre twist of fate - friendship. We leave him hauling his wreck from the harbour, ready to salvage the keel and spars, to build a new ship in Japan.

So how does this marry up with history? Extremely accurately. As far as we know, the historical William Adams was slightly less of a pirate/privateer than the book/show's John Blackthorne. His hatred of Catholicism was more driven by their fervent desire to kill him, which they kept up for nearly a decade. His interest in exploration, in the show and in the historical, was genuine.

The show's story very closely follows what actually happened in real life (again, sans romance... although he does have love in his life, which we'll get to). His crew were initially imprisoned, he was summoned by Toranaga/Tokugawa, and met with him many times to discuss his knowledge of the outside world, trade, and Christianity's impact in Asia. The Jesuits did pester the Council of Regents, and Toranaga/Tokugawa in particular, to execute him. Toranaga/Tokugawa refused, saying this barbarian had done nothing to harm Japan or its people. The Jesuits would not forget this.

He did train elements of Toranaga/Tokogawa's army in how to work the cannon his ship possessed - a skill he possessed, but no one else was willing to offer. He actually followed Toranaga/Tokugawa to several battles. Recent primary source evidence has revealed it was highly likely he was actually at the Battle of Sekigahara, which is a very recent development in the historiography of his life. It is just bananas insane, but it demonstrates just how useful (and likeable) Blackthorne/Adams was to Toranaga/Tokugawa.

I've read two biographies of William Adams, and he was very, very like the Blackthorne portrayed by Cosmo Jarvis. Other Europeans in Japan complained that he was arrogant and dismissive - historians see this as Adams adapting to his station in Japanese society, and being extremely frustrated with European manners and bearing in Japan.

Once Toranaga/Tokugawa became shōgun, Adams - already a samurai - was made hatamoto, and forbidden from leaving Japan. He was granted many generous cuckoos (250 of them!), an estate in Edo, a fief at the entrance to Edo bay, and rose to become Toranaga/Tokugawa's chief trade advisor. During Toranaga/Tokugawa's remaining life, he built two Western-style ships (which Tokugawa came aboard and was very pleased with - that's nice!), and took over piloting duties of Portuguese and Spanish ships making landfall in Edo, pissing off the Catholics to no end.

On Ieyasu Tokugawa's death in 1616, his holdings and fief were confirmed by the new shōgun, Ieyasu Hidetada. But his relationship with the court wouldn't be the same. My reading of the sources leads me to believe that James Clavell was right here: Toranaga/Tokugawa Ieyasu genuinely liked Blackthorne/William Adams, and wanted him around.

As more and more Europeans arrived in Japan, including the English and the Dutch, Adams served as translator for them, and - for the Enlgish - fixer whenever they did something barbaric and rude that would warrant execution. He seemed to view spending time with the (no joke) drunken, whoring, disgusting-smelling English trading factory members as an extreme annoyance. He seemed happiest at sea, and at his mansion in Edo, where he married the daughter of a merchant in 1613. Whilst her name is lost to the historical record, they had two children, Joseph and Susanna.

He wasn't a deadbeat dad - he wrote to his wife back in England, explaining that he could not return. She was a firebrand, and eventually extracted a form of life insurance from the Dutch company that had contracted Adams's piloting services. Partly she was able to do this because of a proclamation issued by Toranaga/Ieyasu Tokugawa: 'William Adams was dead the day he was made samurai, and Miura Anjin - the pilot of the fief of Miura - was born.' That sounds like a badass quote I've made up, but that's one of the English translations of Tokugawa's proclamation.

Adams kept up his maritime adventures, charting the Japanese coast, going on several trading missions to Southeast Asia (sailing to Thailand and meeting with the King of Siam, furthering his amazing ability to charm and dazzle). He struck up firm friendships with members of Tokugawa's court, fellow Japanese merchants in Edo, and the much more polite Dutch traders, despite the tensions that had grown between their two countries.

There's an important aspect of his legacy that endured for centuries. Toranaga/Tokugawa, suspicious of what he had learned of Catholic conversion and invasion of other Asian states, was already disposed to be wary of the Church. The Church in Japan would not let Adams rest, attempting to kill him, convert him, bribe him, and offer him passage home in 1614 on a Portuguese ship. In the same year Portuguese priests claimed that only Spanish miners had the skills to open up the mineral wealth of Japan. Adams warned the shōgun, again, that this was the Catholic way - first the priests, then the conquistadores.

Influenced by these reports and counsel, and because the Jesuits legitimately were conspiring to do the shit Adams accused them of (always a tough charge to defend), Toranaga/Tokugawa Ieyasu expelled all Portuguese priests in 1614, and demanded all Japanese Christians recant. Apart from this leading to the Dutch being the only nation allowed to conduct trade with Japan, this was the end of Japanese Christianity, until the country was forced open in 1855. Christianity never took root in the same way it would in places like Brazil and the Philippines. Was William Adams the only factor in this development? No. Was he a factor? Yes.

He died in 1620, after twenty contented years in Japan and Asia. His will stipulated that his estates and belongings be split evenly between his family in England and Japan. One of Adams's colleagues recorded that Ieyasu Hidetada transferred lordship of Adams's fief to his Japanese son, Joseph, as well as his katana and wakizashi. His line fell out of the historical record, but memory of and monuments to the Anjin remain in Japan.

Faring Well

Shōgun, the book, was fiction, written by a man fascinated by Japanese history, driven by a desire to bring it to the world. He was overwhelmingly successful. It was an excellent start, and even fired up some fascinating academic discussion at the time that I'd definitely recommend. The 2024 adaptation, in my view, changes many of the elements that have aged poorly, were flat-out wrong to begin with, and - like all great adaptations - adds to the work, rather than cheapening it.

Despite being based on real people, the fictional characters created for the show - Blackthorne, Toranga, and especially Mariko - feel real. That is an amazing achievement.

I hope this opens up an interest in Japanese history for some viewers. Being able to visit the places where these events took place is a truly awesome experience. Like all history, it's for individuals to judge what they think of the players.

Hiroyuki Sanada said that he admires Tokugawa Ieyasu because of his ability to bring forth 250 years of peace out of nearly 500 years of chaos. Was Ieyasu motivated by altruism, or self-interest? Does it even matter?

Anna Sawai saw in Hosokowa Gracia a moving, powerful woman, deeply committed to her faith, and to doing what she believed was right in the context of her time. As a person without faith myself, I found this portrayal of genuine belief extremely moving. The demonstration of her convictions was one of the most amazing performances I've ever seen.

And as for the English pilot, Cosmo Jarvis said he wanted to capture the restlessness of Adams, his slow transformation and growth, and the unique qualities that allowed the man to survive and thrive in an extremely deadly time. One thing he nailed that I think even James Clavell messed up was how deepy strange William Adams was. Not weird, not insane, but just a very singular individual. Biographers talk about his aloof, detached, self-aware nature being misconstrued as arrogance by Europeans who encountered him in Japan. Part of it was his annoyance at their inability to learn how to be in Japan; part of it was that he was simply built very differently. In embodying this, I think Cosmo Jarvis succeeded amazingly.

From what we can find in the historical record, William Adams and Hosokowa Gracia may not be 'great' in the sense that Tokugawa Ieyasu was 'great'. They did not build an era. To borrow a phrase from one of my favourite historical writers, whilst they may not be 'great' people, they were good people. That is vanishingly rare in the history we celebrate, and I think, for that reason alone, it's important to remember them, and the things they lived and died for.

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issacballsac · 9 months

Text

“Being a Member of BLAST”

Life is short why not take a chance and join a band? Masc!reader intended

Minor spoilers for NANA

Joining | Nana

Actually joining the band wasn’t hard especially because when you met Nana there was no band💀

You guys met at the train station when she first moved to Tokyo

You already lived in Tokyo and were just returning from a trip when you saw her

It was like an instant click she caught your eye

“Hey, do you happen to sing by any chance?”

“Who are you?”

“Don’t worry about that just know I can play guitar pretty damn good if I do say so myself!”

She was tired from the long ass ride and didn’t know anyone in Tokyo aside from Ren

Went back to your place and played for her

“I’ll think about it.”

Nana isn’t a very emotional or open person so she tends to keep secrets but over time if you guys get that close she’ll vent to you

If you smoke she’ll always ask you for your lighter

Older sister younger brother energy

Opposites | Hachi

Nana paid you an abrupt visit to tell you about her new place and totally not just for you to fix the AC

Checking the place out you laid eyes on an inverted version of Nana

“Hi, I’m Nana Komatsu!”

“Just call her Hachi.”

“Nana!”

“Nice to meet you, Hachi?”

She’s had a crush on just about every BLAST member , so, of course she has had a crush on you before

If you wear makeup or paint your nails she would love to do it for you

Amazing cook and if you ever wanted anything she’d happily make it for you

She rlly just wants to be needed

Definitely went to you for relationship advice with Nobu

You tend to just appear places so you were one of the first people to know about her pregnancy and went to the hospital with her

You stayed outside though to avoid ppl thinking you were the father 💀

You def don’t help with her shopping addiction

Shopping sprees constantly that’s why your broke as shit

“Should I get the soft blue or purple skirt?”

“Both.”

After the Takumi drama you guys would stay in contact and when Nobu wasn’t at your place she’d come to watch you practice alone

You’d support her decision because it’s her life in the end

Formation | Nobuō

The unforgiving aggression spewing from your ringing phone at the dead of night

Some random number was calling you and for whatever reason you answered, confident that it wasn’t a scam caller

“Hello?”

“It’s Nana, come over.”

“I’m not into late night favours if you get what I mean.”

“That’s not what I’m calling for, just get over here!”

Reluctantly wandering the dark streets of Tokyo you made your way over to Nana’s apartment, you’d only been there once to help with the AC where you learned of the other Nana or Hachi

Opening the door to reveal the two residents and a blonde man standing with his guitar in hand

“Took you long enough. Anyways, like I said Nobuo I already have a guitarist so go home.”

“Well we could always play together I have nothing against dual guitars!”

“You aren’t helping.”

“Good.”

You and Nobu got along great your guitars and personalities blending perfectly

He talks with you about everything especially when he and Hachi get together

If you’re shorter than/same height him he’d be happy to have another short guy in the band

If you’re taller he’d be happy if you didn’t make fun of his height though he does tend to light heartedly joke abt it

He likes to go to you for fashion inspiration and vice versa

Drunk karaoke

You would help him with song writing

You guys would be around the same age too so besties

You guys get along the best in the band

The bass | Shin

After the whole Nobu moving to Tokyo fiasco all you guys need is a bassist and drummer

Nobu sending you a picture of Hachi’s little drawing of the 3 of you on the band poster

You met up with them at the studio to practice with Shinichi on bass

For such a young kid he was pretty good player (granted your only like 6-7 years older)

Being confused right alongside him when everyone stopped playing

You, Shin, and Nobu are like the 3 musketeers

You- Oldest, Nobuo - Middle, Shin - Youngest

Shin snatched your clothes on a daily basis much like he does with Nobu

Unlike Nobu, you don’t care

He stays over at your place more than you’d like to admit

He basically lives there

He would definitely go to you about the Reira/Layla situation

Has mini fashion shows in your room with a fake runway and everything

You guys play games together on your console

He relaxes and is actually a kid when he hangs out with you

Has you paint his nails

He has moments when he storms off if you bring up a certain subject but he never stays mad for long and shows up at your door

Likes to go eat at new places with you especially if you’re paying for it

“I’m gonna get the chocolate croissants, one of those fancy hot chocolates, and..oh! You’re paying for this right?”

“Um..”

Bit a of spoiler kinda but later in the manga when he got arrested you’d be the only one to visit him

Completion | Yasu

You definitely shat yourself when you first met Yasu

He’s the responsible one in the band so he’s like a father figure to you especially if you didn’t have one

You two probably get to the studio first before anyone else

He’d always let you talk/rant to him if you ever needed to

Would be surprised if you remembered his birthday and got him a gift

If you smoke he’d go on smoke breaks with you

If you don’t smoke he’d make sure to hold his cigarette away from you/out of your face

Would teach you various card games

If you didn’t want to watch a movie alone he’d watch it with you

Any legal troubles go to him

Scratch that ANY troubles go to him

“Man you’re like a wise monk.”

“..because I’m bald?”

“No, because you’re wise..and because you’re bald.”

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peasantexchangeprogram · 12 days

Note

helloo since we're on the topic: top historical fiction (or adjacent) ? can be any time period I just really love your taste in shows/games/etc and am always on the lookout for history inspired media !

thank you!!! im rly glad im like. inspiring other ppl to engage w things im insane abt hudofajsdfdassfsad. anyways. i will probably expand that list bc i literally forgot every single thing i ever read. also i havent watched that many movies so far

ancient times: i havent really watched a lot of movies/series set in ancient times so far :(

rome HBO (2005-2007) (tv series) - OF COURSE. i personally think its one of the best series ever made. they combine political, miliatry history with the lives of every day people in an incredible way. they never let you once engage with the series through modern lenses. according to my teacher (a historian, archeologist & self described 'romaphile') its incredibly historically accurate, mostly the clothing, set designs, characterization, military practices, etc. except for the things they straight up made up, of course.

i really enjoyed gladiator (2000), i think its a masterpiece.

prince of egypt (1998) i guess?

all the asterix movies of course, all the animated ones and most of the live actions. but i wouldnt really call it historical fiction

ok i havent actually finished watching it for now but sebastiane (1976) - an erotic, x rated, gay interpretation of the martyrdom of st sebastian. its in latin also.

wait i cant believe i forgor about assassin's creed odyssey - so far the only one ive played. its so fun and incredibly immersive visually. especially pour moi who cries into the pillow about how ill never experience the ancient world. also you can b a faggot which is always fun. i have things to say about their portrayal of same-sex sexuality and slavery in classical greece but i get why they did that considering its supposed to like. appeal to a lot of people, and a more "historically accurate" portrayal (for example of pederasty or how common slavery was etc.) would b v difficult for a lot of their target audience. alas.

medieval and early modern era:

the name of the rose (1986) - my medieval history teacher literally showed us bits of this movie to teach us about monasteries and monks fhdosiasdjasd.

the borgias (2011-2013) - incredibly messy, lots of political intrigue, and so so fun to watch. about the history of the borgia family. filled to the brim with drama.

the three musketeers (1993) - my favorite adaptation, also coincidentally the one i grew up on. casting tim curry as richelieu was genius. he slays so hard.

i also like bbc's the musketeers (2014-2016) - a neat little series. very fun and entertaining to watch.

outlaw king (2018) - like i dont think most ppl heard of this movie. its about robert the bruce's fight to reclaim the throne of scotland. starring chris pine

vikings (2013-2020) - its fun. i havent watched the entire series tho. dont expect anything resembling historical accuracy

the northman (2022) - you will see something resembling historical accuracy

mihai viteazul (michael the brave) (1971) - a fun movie. very much romanian propaganda tho.

1670 (2023-) - such a fun series!!! incredible cast, shows respect to the actual history and the lives of historical people. really cute and funny.

caravaggio (1986) - a biopic about caravaggio.

wait i also forgor about pentiment - an intriguing, immersive, and incredibly beautiful video game! it has a lot of 'the name of the rose' vibes, with it being a medieval murder mystery taking place in a monastery. its incredibly touching and made me cry, and in the last few years i very rarely cry. also im 99% sure its an indie game? go support the creators!

vaguely-medieval/early modern fantasy:

mirror mirror (2012) - a retelling of snow white. a very fun movie imo, with incredible costume design. julia roberts plays the evil queen and she SLAYS. armie hammer is unfortunately in that movie.

stardust (2007) - one of my fave movies growing up. more modern-inspired but still.

the green knight (2021) - controversial i know but i actually loved this movie! i liked it both as a standalone movie but moreso as a 21st century adaptation to sir gawain and the green knight.

galavant (2015-2016) - !!!!!!! one of the most series ever! they manage to tackle such difficult concepts and conversations with a hilarious wit. so fun to watch. i listen to a lot of the songs still, and rewatch every once in a while.

disenchantment (2018-2023) - very fun to watch, especially the first season.

i also really liked the novel uprooted by naomi novik. its a polish-inspired fantasy.

modern era:

killers of the flower moon (2023) - of course. a masterpiece

aferim! (2015) - a romanian movie set in 19th century wallachia, about two officers, a father and son, who were sent by a nobleman to retrieve an escaped enslaved romani man. a lot of the people in the comments were calling the movie humorous and funny, maybe im missing smth (as im watching with subtitles n dont understand the original language) but it was a very difficult watch for me??

the handmaiden (2016) - need i say more

black sails (2014-2017) - a prequel to the famous novel 'treasure island'. not an easy series to watch. incredibly good.

the favourite (2018) - need i say more pt 2

the rabbi's cat (le chat du rabbin) (2011) - animated movie set in early 20th century algeria. a rabbi's cat learns to talk overnight.

the nice guys (2016) - a fun murder mystery set in the 1970s

o brother, where art thou (2000) - a retelling of the odyssey set in the southern us in the 1930s

victor/victoria (1982) - set in early 20th century paris. julie andrews pretends to be a man and takes on a job as a drag queen. extremely fun, extremely gay movie.

lady chatterley's lover (2022) - very much porn for moms but it was a nice watch imo

amulet (2020) - set in like. idk. sometime in the 20th century. this is a horror movie, deals a lot with misogyny, sa, and so on. i really like it, personally. a lot of people, mostly weird men, dont tho.

the great (2020-2023) - i have mixed feelings about this show. on the one hand, its really fun to watch. on the other hand, its basically ofmd for girls who have public mental breakdowns whenever someone claims corsets were oppressive. and theyre so weird about russians, jesus christ.

disses:

domina (2021-) - i just couldnt get into it, esp since i tried right after finishing rome hbo. it was kind of silly, and not in a good way. takes itself wayyyy to seriously.

i didnt like spartacus (2010-2013) - the dialogue was almost grotesque and the editing, especially the transitions, straight up killed me

damsel (2024) - holy fuck what a trainwreck of a movie. absolute waste of angela basset and robin wright. the only good thing were the costumes.

lancelot du lac (1974) - i just didnt like it at all. couldnt get into it. i guess it was way too french and artsy fartsy for me. a movie that was trying to say both too little and too much at the same time.

i didnt rly like bram stoker's dracula (1992) - i mean. it was a fine movie. it was definitely not the godfather. the movie itself was meh. the visuals tho? absolutely stunning

#asks #anon #mine*#slavery ment #sa ment

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princessbellecerise · 4 months

Text

Picture Perfect, II

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Your sister Natasha is in trouble. You know it in your gut, and even moreso — you know it’s because of her so called ‘family’ the Avengers. It’s up to you to save your sister and yourself — before it becomes too late.

warnings | dark!peter parker, dark!avengers, non-con, kidnapping, dubcon, violence, loss of virginity (m. and f), manipulation, overall mature themes, stalking, delusional!peter, 18+ ONLY

previous | series masterlist | main masterlist | next

“I’m telling you guys, something isn’t right.”

Natasha had texted you early the following morning. Natasha never texted you.

Nat: Hey, I’m so sorry about last night. I guess I just got worked up over the most recent mission and I sort of had some flashbacks. Nothing too serious so I don’t want you to worry but I just want you to know that everything is fine and I love you.

You had stared at the text, analyzed it, read it forward and backwards and yet despite everyone else telling you that it was nothing, despite your own parents believing that text message over you when you told them something was wrong, terribly wrong - despite all that, you knew what you heard last night was anything but fine.

You knew. And you were going to get to the bottom of it.

You didn’t know exactly what happened, but you weren’t dumb enough to believe that it was because of a mission. You weren’t dumb enough to drop the way you felt after reading that text message, noticing several things wrong with it.

First, you noticed how robotic it sounded and extremely impersonal. The word’s definitely didn’t sound like anything Natasha would say and that worried you.

But, perhaps the most alarming thing was the nickname ‘she’ had sent in the text, or rather the lack of.

For as long as you could remember, Natasha never went a day without calling you голубка, which meant little dove in her native language Russian.

Ever since you were a child she’d call you that almost every time she addressed you, and now as you replayed the text in your mind, your gut was screaming at you that if it was Natasha that had texted you, then surely your given nickname would be thrown in there somewhere.

But no, it wasn’t. Which made you worry even more as you went to class that day, only expressing your concerns when you finally met up with your two best friends, Ned and MJ.

The three of you had been friends ever since your first year at MIT. You had roomed with Michelle—or MJ as she like to be called—and met Ned through a mutual friend you no longer talked to. The first time you guys had hung out, you automatically clicked, dubbing you guys the nickname The Three Musketeers. And making them the people you ranted to about Natasha when your parents wouldn’t listen.

“I’m telling you guys, the text she sent was superrr sus. And after what happened last night…guys I really don’t think it’s her,” You told them, and you knew from the moment that you opened your mouth, they thought you were crazy.

Ned and MJ shared a look, and though they would never say it to your face, you know that’s what they were thinking.

Everybody thought that, which was why this whole situation was so frustrating for you. Nobody believed you or your very valid concerns, not even your own friends.

“Y/N, are you sure that you’re not just spiraling again?” Ned asked, gently laying a hand on your shoulder. You hated how condescending he sounded. Like you were a child that lost their mind or something.

“Yeah I mean, I know you’re under a lot of stress because of Bernstein, you don’t think maybe this has anything to do with you being more paranoid than usual?” MJ offered.

You threw her an annoyed glance, at least expecting your conspiracy theorist friend to agree with you.

“No,” You let out a huff, shaking your head. “This has nothing to do with Bernstein, I promise. I just…”

You just what?

You stared at the sympathetic faces of both Ned and MJ and it was enough to have you pursing your lips, stopping your sentence in its tracks.

It was clear enough that anything you had to say wasn’t going to be taken seriously. Whenever you talked about this, most people would turn their noses up and tune you out because they just thought that you were crazy.

Something being off about the Avengers? Not a chance. They were America’s Heroes. Scratch that, they were the world’s heroes. Who would ever believe that something sketchy was going on with them? Certainly not anybody in your life.

You had to admit, it hurt a lot that not even your friends believed you. If anything, you expected Michelle Jones, the conspiracy theorist, to have your back, but there was nothing as she stared at you and you knew that you were alone.

You sighed, dropping your gaze before shaking your head.

“You know what,” You picked at your fingers as embarrassment creeped through your veins. “Just forget I even said anything, okay? You guys are probably right anyways. It’s probably just…stress.”

You cringed even saying it but what choice did you have? Expressing your concerns would be like talking to brick walls.

Ned smiled a little and gave you an encouraging look. “It’s alright. Trust me, we understand.”

“Maybe what you need is to just loosen up a little,” MJ shrugged as she picked her own nails. The chipped black nail polish nearly matched the pattern of your own. “Maybe you just need to…go to a party with me Friday night?”

She blurted it out so fast that you barely caught onto what she was saying, but when you did, you shook your head and quickly protested.

“MJ, you know that’s not really my thing,” You frowned slightly. “And with this paper due for Bernstein, I really gotta…”

“Oh come on!” MJ cut you off, sitting up on the bench you guys were currently sitting on. Ned had the idea that you all should wait outside of your chemistry class in order to get the best seats. Closer to the front was always a must, since your teacher had an accent that was sort of hard to understand. She was brilliant; but when trying to understand complex concepts it was sort of hard. So, you and MJ agreed. And now she was pouting at you. “We haven’t been to a party since…well, never.” MJ frowned. “But I wanna go cause Stacy invited me and I sort of…promised that I’d go.”

“So that’s why you wanna go,” You suddenly realized, a small smirk forming on your face. MJ blushed. “So you can see Stacy?”

“No, not just so I can see Stacy,” She interjected, but both you and Ned knew better. You exchanged looks and MJ scowled. “I also wanna go cause I wanna hang with you guys,” She explained, throwing her arms around you and Ned. Silence came over you both, and when MJ realized you weren’t buying it, she sighed. “Okay and maybe…I do want to see a little bit of Stacy.”

“Oh, I knew it!” Ned clapped his hands together and laughed. “You’ve been obsessed since like, first semester.”

“Have not,” MJ said, lightly pushing Ned’s shoulder. But you all knew she was lying. “I just…like seeing my study buddy. Is that so bad?”

“We all know you that likeeee her. You don’t have to hide it,” You teased, reaching out to squeeze her cheeks. Immediately, she scowled as she swatted your hand away.

“Shut uppp,” MJ replied, but the smile on her face told you that she wasn’t mad. You chuckled at your friend, shaking your head before Ned spoke again.

“Well, if you don’t want to go to the party, you can always help me build the new Lego set I got,” He offered, his eyes lighting up. “My Lola says there’s over twelve thousand pieces on this one. Sounds fun, right?”

“Right…” You hesitantly smiled at Ned and bless him, but you were not building another Lego set with him. Not after the last one that took forever and had you both pulling an all-nighter, which then caused you to fall asleep during your mid-terms. You still passed, but you vowed you’d never do it again which had you turning to MJ. With Bernstein’s paper due, you couldn’t risk anything. So, throwing an a apologetic look to Ned, you said, “On second thought, maybe I will go to that party.”

“Really?” MJ’s dark brown eyebrows shot up, but you could tell that she was presently surprised as a smile formed on her face.

You nodded. “Yeah. What time?”

“Ten,” She told you automatically. You thought you saw Ned pouting a little out of the corner of your eye.

But you didn’t say anything as you slowly nodded your head. “Great. I’ll be there,” You told MJ, smiling a little. “And I’ll be the best damn wingman ever!”

“Gee, thanks. You’re so supportive,” MJ said sarcastically, and though you all laughed at her words, deep down you felt a little sadness that you didn’t get that treatment in return.

You were willing to go to this party to help MJ with no questions asked, but she nor Ned would listen to you about your very valid concerns. The situation with Natasha was a legitimate worry that you had, but like always, you had to push it down cause no one would listen.

You thought it was a little unfair but you kept quiet. After all, that was what you were used to doing, and even if did bring it up again—who would ever believe you over the Avengers?

You chewed at the pencil in your hand, sighing and catching the attention of Peter.

He sat across from you in Marjorie’s — May’s — cafe, brown eyes looking up at the sound of your exhale and eyebrows quirking up shortly after.

It was obvious there were something on your mind, something that was clearly distracting you from paying attention to the advice he was giving you on how to go about Bernstein’s project.

But you didn’t even realize Peter had caught on until he spoke, surprising you.

“Is something the matter?” He asked, causing your gaze to finally flick from your paper to him. “Am I…God, I’m confusing you, aren’t I? I..I’m sorry, I-I know I’m not the best teacher but I—”

“Peter,” You cut him off with a small laugh, forcing a smile on your face as the thoughts from your head momentarily vanished. Honestly, you thought it was quite adorable how he worried he looked, afraid he wasn’t doing a good job.

But he was.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” You reassured him, causing him to relax a little. “My mind… I guess I’m just a million miles away today. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Peter said, quickly straightening up a little. “I-I-I get it. I’m like that too. Always something on my mind.”

“You have no idea,” You let out a breath, and Peter cocked his head curiously as you shut your eyes and rubbed your temples. It was obvious to anyone that you were stressed, but even more so to him due to his…senses.

He picked up on the dark circles under your eyes, and the way your face just looked…tired. Gently, he decided to reach out and grab your hand, squeezing it which caused your stomach to flip a little.

“Hey,” He gave you a small smile, relaxing you. “I get it. And if you don’t feel like doing this right now, we could gladly talk about some thing else,” He offered

You rose an eyebrow as he gently close his laptop, tucking it away in his case.

“Yeah, like what?” You questioned, biting your lip.

“Anything,” Peter shrugged, still smiling. “If you want to talk about whatever it is that has your head in the clouds, then feel free too. I cleared my schedule so I’d be more than happy to listen,” He told you.

Suddenly, you felt something twist in your stomach. “You didn’t have to do that,” You told him softly, knowing that he still had an internship with Tony Stark. “I’m sure you’re busy and well…you didn’t exactly volunteer to listen to my problems, so if you have somewhere else to be, we can pick up on this tomorrow—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Peter squeezed your hand, causing your breath to hitch. “I’d much rather be here than doing errands for Mr. Stark,” He laughed quietly, his brown eyes gazing into yours. “If you can believe it.”

“I can’t,” You confessed, “But I mean if you want…”

Peter settled back against the booth and you rubbed your hands together as he watched you intensely. He didn’t push, rather he stayed quiet as you gathered your thoughts and tried to think of what you wanted to say.

“It’s just,” You started hesitantly, knowing full well he could call you crazy for what you were about to say. After all, Peter wouldn’t be the first person you expressed these thoughts to, but he would be new. You hoped that he’d at least hear you out instead of dismissing you like people usually did. And for some reason, you got the vibe that he wouldn’t. “It’s just well, I’m really worried, Peter.”

“Worried?” Peter reiterated, you nodded your head.

“Yeah. I had a phone call with my sister last night and while she texted me this morning saying that everything was fine, I just—I don’t know. I feel it in my gut that she’s lying.”

“Lying?” Peter rose an eyebrow, and you imagined your words sound quite strange without all the context. “Why…why would your sister be lying to you?” He asked.

You shrugged. “That’s just the thing. I don’t know,” You said. “That’s why I’m so worried. She wouldn’t have anything to lie about if everything was truly fine.”

Peter shifted a little as you went on and also told him about Natasha’s other strange behaviors. You didn’t tell him much, just enough for him the grasp the situation and certainly not every detail.

You didn’t want to give away too much seeing as well, no matter how comfortable you felt with him — Peter was still a stranger. You didn’t know him as well you knew your other friends Ned and MJ. In fact you barely knew him at all, but already he was listening more than other people ever did.

It made you feel warm inside that he seemed to genuinely take your words seriously.

“Wow that’s—” When you finished, Peter had a slightly disturbed look on his face. He scrunched his nose up and you nodded, agreeing with his expression. “That’s a lot…and honestly kind of freaky.”

“Right?” Your voice went up several octaves. From her not so secret spot behind the counter, May looked over at you. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell other people for quite some time now but nobody seems to believe me. They all think that just because she’s tough she can look out for herself, but even the toughest people still need looking out for sometimes, you know?” You asked Peter. “And I mean, Natasha is an Avenger, she can take care of herself but—”

“Natasha,” Peter stopped you mid-sentence, his mouth slightly open as you let the name and occupation of your sister slip out. He reeled back a little bit as if the realization just hit him like a ton of bricks, and you paused as you covered your mouth, obviously not meaning to let that slip out. “Your sister…is an Avenger?”

“Oh God, I wasn’t supposed to let that part slip out,” You said sheepishly, mortified by your own stupidity. “I’m so sorry,” But you weren’t exactly sure who you were apologizing to—Peter, or Natasha. As you got older, she had kindly asked you to limit the amount of people you told about her. As her missions got more and more dangerous, it was completely understandable but now you had failed.

Natasha had made sure that it would take some serious digging to even find you, which was why you felt guilty for letting it slip to Peter.

You weren’t supposed to say a word, but honestly though, he didn’t seem to mind much.

“Really?” There was excitement on his face, his eyes extra wide and his lips open in shock. “I had no clue that you were her sister. I-I mean, I’ve heard her talk about you before but I never…wow. You must be the girl she talks about all the time, then. The one that’s obsessed with thrifting old CD’s and stuff?”

Now, it was your turn to stop and pause, your jaw dropping at Peter’s words. Despite the topic, a strange feeling of giddiness rose in you, and a smile played its way onto your lips. “She…she talks about me?” You whispered quietly, and Peter nodded as he answered.

“Yeah, all the time,” He said, and then as if he said something wrong, he quickly backtracked. “Well, at least when I talk to her, which isn’t often. I’m mainly around Mr. Stark but sometimes I see the other Avengers and your sister seems pretty nice.”

“Wow,” You were in shock that your sister even mentioned you while she was at work, knowing how much of private person she was. Natasha barely talked about anything with anyone, seeing as her trust was limited, but the fact that she seemed to love you enough to even mention you made you beyond ecstatic.

“I…I had no idea,” You told Peter, now with a wide smile on your face. Now that that door was open, you couldn’t stop yourself from questioning him even more. “What did she say about me? How often do you talk?”

“Oh, not too often,” He told you, “And nothing but the good things,” Peter reassured you. “She mostly talks about how proud of you she is for getting into MIT early and things like that.”

“And anything else?”

“Well,” Peter rubbed the back of his head, somewhat avoiding your eyes. “Yeah, I guess. She sometimes mentions the things that you like, like roses being your favorite flower and how you’d kill someone just to eat the last blueberry muffin,” You both chuckled at this. “But mostly…she just brags about you and how smart you are,” Peter smiled. “She even mentioned some of your accomplishments, like being valedictorian. Which, by the way, is extremely impressive. Just thought you should know that.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t stop the blush that spread on your cheeks, and you were grateful that Peter wasn’t able to see it because you didn’t want him to know just how much his words flattered you. You pretended like you weren’t embarrassed by his praise, and instead sent him a short nine. “Well, thank you Peter. You’re quite impressive yourself.”

This caused his face to light up. “Really?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Of course. You got into MIT sooner than I did and well, you do work under Tony Stark,” You told him. “I can’t imagine he recruits just anyone.”

“Well,” The blush on Peter’s cheeks was enough to having you giggling. You watched as he humbly waved you off, but you knew that your words are true. You don’t think even you had it in you to snag an internship with one of the most renowned scientists in the world, and that was with your sister being an Avenger. By definition, you could’ve been a Nepo baby but you’re weren’t. Peter managed to do it all on his own. That really was impressive. He was really impressive, you realized with a slight glow in your chest.

Impressive enough to make you forget about what you previously were talking about.

You didn’t realize how quick the topic changed from Natasha, until suddenly Peter brought it up again, smacking you back to reality and snapping you out of your giddy phase as you tore your eyes away from his.

“So now that I know who you’re talking about,” He said, “Is there any reason in particular that you’re so alarmed about her?”

He studied your face. Analyzed the way your eyes slightly darted away, and he held his breath, wondering what the next few words that escaped your mouth would be.

Where did you even begin? At the beginning, you supposed, but even though you felt comfortable around Peter, you didn’t think you were that comfortable to tell him about all of it. It was almost like that day, and those feelings were a private part of you, and you weren’t ready to share them just yet, so you opted to tell him something else. “I just…I just think it’s strange,” You began, “How she sometimes interacts with the other Avengers. I mean, I know that they’re her coworkers, and probably her really close friends, but sometimes I just can’t help but think they seem a little bit too close, you know?”

No, he didn’t know. It was obvious that Peter had absolutely no clue what you were talking about, his face pulled into one of confusion. You knew that your response had shocked him, and bless his heart, he seemed to realize that you were studying his face and quickly got rid of that expression.

“Um…”

“It’s okay, you can say that I’m weird for thinking that,”You said, knowing that he was just going to be like everybody else. “I just…I just worry about her, you know? I worry about the way she interacts with them, and that she might not be as happy as she leads on. Ever since that day…well she’s barely called. She’s barely texted. I hardly ever see her anymore or hear from her unless it’s once a week, and I know it sounds weird but—”

Peter was quick to jump in to dismiss your concerns.

“No, no I don’t think it’s weird at all,” He said quickly, “But it’s just shocking to hear you say that. Kind of sad, if you know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean,” You told him quickly, “More than you’ll ever know. It seems like I’m the only one that sees through the happy façade, but I mean, if you were to tell me it’s nothing as well then I suppose I will just sound crazy. But I just don’t think—I just can’t shake the fact that if they really were as close as they tried to portray, if they really were that picture perfect, I can’t help but think Nat would invite me over to the tower more. I can’t help but think that I would’ve met the Avengers more. I can’t help but think something strange is going on when Nat barely calls me, and when she does she just always seems so out of it.”

“Out of it,” Peter repeated your words, and you nodded. “How does she seem out of it?” He fiddled with his hands and began to tap the side of the table.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t really know,” You confessed to him, “I just know that the way she behaves just isn’t normal. Some of the things she says, some of the things she does…all of it put together it just seems strange.”

“Oh,” Peter was silent for a while as you stared at him, trying to gauge some kind of reaction from his face. You could tell that he was confused, and it was absolutely understandable, but he also look doubtful as well. You expected that, but the one thing you didn’t expect, was for the layer of understanding that washed over his face, his brown eyes glinting as he looked into yours once again.

“Actually,” He stated, shrugging a little bit, “I don’t think it’s as strange as you’re putting it.”

If you were expecting him to say anything, it definitely wasn’t that. You looked at him in shock, as his eyes slightly flickered behind his shoulder, over the counter to Marjorie, who had began wiping down the coffee bar.

“No, I don’t think it’s strange at all,” He said, “And in fact, I think it’s normal to worry about someone you love like that. Even if she is an Avenger, Natasha is still your sister, and I can definitely see where all this is stemming from. You’re probably super worried about her and the toll her job takes on her, and I guess it can seem drastic when you don’t see her as often. In fact, I kind of…I think May feels the same way about me these past few couple of years, so I wouldn’t feel too bad or really stress about it as much if I were you. It’s just part of our job, but that doesn’t mean we’re not okay.”

The words on your tongue seemed to falter a little bit, but luckily, you recovered yourself and managed to let out a small sound that almost sounded like like relief.

“Wow,” You couldn’t stop the smile that creeped on your face as you stared at him. “I…I mean as far as it goes, that’s kind of exactly how I feel. People always tell me I’m crazy to constantly worry, but I can’t help it you know. I love Nat, and it would kill me if something was wrong and I didn’t know until it was too late.”

“I get that too,” Peter said, once again glancing at Marjorie. “You want to know everything about the people that you love and it sucks when you feel like they’re hiding something for you. But maybe…” He bit his lip and that was when he looked back at you. “Have you maybe consider that if Natasha was hiding something from you for any reason, that it might be a good thing? That it might be because she doesn’t want to have you shoulder the burden as well, that maybe it’s her protecting you from the truth? I mean the things that she deals will are incredibly dangerous. We all saw those files she leaked a few years ago. Things like that…it puts you on the radar of some pretty dangerous people and maybe she doesn’t tell you to protect you.”

Well, you most certainly did not think about that. Ever since that day, you had the feeling in your gut that you had to protect Natasha from whatever it was that was going on with her that caused her to change so drastically, but you never considered that maybe she changed or maybe she never said anything because it was you that she had to protect.

“That…makes a lot of sense when you put it that way,” You admitted to Peter, “I guess…I guess I was so focused on protecting her I didn’t really stop to think if she was doing the same. I know that if the roles were reversed, and Natasha wouldn’t stop until she found something she was satisfied with.”

“And are you?” Peter asked, elaborating when he noticed that you looked confused. “Satisfied that is,” He added, causing your eyebrows to shoot up.

“Honestly,” You looked at him and you found that you could only tell him the truth. “No, no I’m not satisfied,” You confessed, picking at the polish on your finger nails. “I haven’t been satisfied with her excuses in a while. And I think it’s because I can never just shake the gut feeling I have that she’s not being quite truthful with me.”

When you finished, you noticed that there was an unfamiliar glint in his eye as Peter looked thoughtfully the table. It seemed like his own brain was coming up with a response to what you just said. It looked like he was trying to use his words carefully, and it took a while to respond. But when he did, you knew it was only when he picked the perfect words to say to you.

“Can I tell you something?” He suddenly asked, and against your better judgment, you were quick to nod.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” You told him, and Peter sighed like what he was about to tell you something you might not like.

“I think…I think that over these last couple of years, both you and Natasha have been under a great deal of stress. I mean you said it yourself—she’s an Avenger, and as much as you might not believe her, she does go on missions. I’ve seen it myself,” He admitted, “and truth be told I think that if you knew any of the Avngers then you’d see that they’re all in the same boat. It’s a lot of pressure even just being around them, and I can’t imagine actually having the responsibility to save the world on your shoulders, every single day. So I understand why it might be so hard for you to believe her, but I think it’s true. I think Natasha is telling you the truth, and from everything I’ve observed about the Avengers, she is. I’ve never seen anything that would indicate something is wrong, and if I did, I would never lie to you about it. I just think your sister is under a great deal of stress and like I said earlier, going weeks or months without talking to her tricks your brain, and makes you think it’s a lot worse than it really is. But if you were actually around her more frequently like I am, I think you’d see that it’s just an everyday thing and you really don’t have anything to worry about. I know it may be hard, but I’ve been working for Mr. Stark for years and I can honestly say that what you see is what you get. The Avengers for the most part are picture perfect. And I think, that no matter how hard of a time you have accepting that, it’ll be a lot better if you do. Because if you don’t, I think you might end up like May here and eventually run yourself to death carrying all that stress.”

As soon as you got home, tiredness seeped into your veins as you threw your bag down before plopping on your bed.

Peter had helped you finish up the rest of your proposal, and it was with great relief that you managed to submit your new draft after praying to every God there was that Professor Bernstein would accept this one.

You saw no reason that he wouldn’t, seeing as Peter pretty much gave you the outline he used for his paper, and he had gotten an A+ on it. You were sure that there was no way Bernstein would refuse you again, and the thought made you smile, grateful that Peter was there to help you.

Now that you thought about it, it really did seem like he came just in time to save you from repeating this class. Now that you had his pointers, the only thing left to do was put all of the data you had gathered from Marjorie together and submit it—along with a few of her family heirlooms you promised to return.

Admittedly, it kind of made you sad that the worst was now over because it meant you didn’t really need Peter anymore. You liked hanging out with him; he was fun and easy-going, and just all around sweet compared to most of the males that you interacted with. Except for Ned, Peter was the only other boy that you could envision actually wanting to hang around long-term.

You thought about this, and what it meant as you picked your nails, still laying down on your bed.

Dinner was supposed to be ready in a few, and your mom was cooking a traditional Russian dish that Natasha used to request all the time. It used to be her favorite, so you decided to clear your mind before you at, going to the shower to wash up.

Once you had everything you needed, you stepped into the warm water and let it relax your body, letting out a sigh.

You were finally able to wash away some of the stress that you had been feeling from the past few days. Not only from Bernstein’s class, but also about your feelings from Natasha, which Peter had sort of put to rest.

With his reassurance and advice, you felt a little lighter, like you could relax now and finally see that maybe you were exaggerating a little. After all, Natasha was fully capable of handling herself if something truly was wrong, right?

She’d fought aliens before. She didn’t exactly need her baby sister trying to protect her.

It was because of these thoughts that you were finally able to let loose and enjoy your shower. When you were done, you stepped back into your room, towel tightly wrapped around your body as you rummaged through your drawers for some clothes. You opened the top one, looking for your night clothes, and as you did you noticed that it seemed just a little bit cooler in your room than it usually did.

You didn’t remember leaving the window open, but when you turned around, it was slightly ajar, which lead you to stare it for a couple of seconds.

Maybe mom came in to clean and accidentally left it open, you thought.

It seemed like such a small coincidence that you didn’t really worry about it much, simply walking over and reaching over your desk to close it.

Your hands were just about to yank the glass panel down when something else caught your attention, though, making you freeze in your tracks.

A familiar ringtone erupted from your phone; a ringtone you had specifically set for one person. That way you would never miss her calls or mistakingly decline thinking she was someone else.

It was a ringtone you had saved only for your sister, and before you knew it you were abandoning the window and darting towards your phone and picking it up.

You felt like you were about to stop breathing as Natasha finally came into view, sporting a weak smile and staring at you with those same sad eyes that she wore yesterday.

Yesterday when she called you. Yesterday when all those weird things went on. Yesterday was only a day ago, not a week. So why exactly was Natasha calling you?

“Hey,” She was the first to speak, her voice hoarse as if she had used it tremendously in the past few hours. Not only that, it sounded…strained. Like she was sick or something. But Natasha showed no signs of being ill the previous day, so it lead you to wonder what it was really about.

“Hi.”

Your voice shocked you. So small and quiet, almost like you were afraid to raise your voice after yesterday. Like you were afraid to say the wrong thing in the wrong tone and have your sister freak out like she did yesterday.

You hated it.

You hated yourself for treating Natasha like a child, or holding back like she would break at any moment. Like she wasn’t the strongest woman you knew. You hated it, but yet, it’s all you could do as you stared at your tired, sad sister.

“How are you?” Natasha’s voice remained in the same tone as yours, and you took the phone and set it on your desk so that you would have a better angle. You now had your back to the window and shivered a little as the cold breeze traveled across your freshly scrubbed skin.

“Good,” The word came out with a slight nod. “I’ve been pretty much the same as I was yesterday when you called. Just busy with my paper and such.”

Natasha’s throat bobbed up and down as you mentioned this, but her face remained clear of any emotion like the truth she was. she asked that Is Peter Parker still helping you with that?” She asked, and Do you know a small smile coming to your face as you thought of him.

“Yeah,“ You said a bit more shyly than you wanted. “Peter’s been a great help. He helped me finish my proposal and I submit it this afternoon. I’m waiting to see how that goes.”

“Yeah,” Natasha let out an uncomfortable chuckle, her eyes flickering with an emotion that you seemed to miss. down in a small side, escaping her lips. “Well I’m glad you finished it at least. I know how much you said that class was a pain in your ass.”

“You have no idea,” You blew out a breath, “Bernstein’s been making my semester hell. But like I said, Peter’s helped me a lot. I’m really thankful that I met him when I did.”

Natasha said nothing. Which was odd, because your sister always had something to say whether it be bad or good.

You waited for her to give you her two cents on Peter, as surely she had picked up on the way you talked about him. But…you waited, and it seemed like the only thing Natasha was trying to do was not say anything.

After a few minutes of silence, you finally asked, “Is…everything okay?”

“That’s good,” Nat avoided your question, causing you to worry but you remembered what Peter said and decided for once, to just let it go. “I just hope you aren’t ditching any of your other friends just to hang out with him.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but her tone very much lacked the humor that was supposed to go with it.

“Don’t worry,” You reassured her, “Ned and MJ are very much still in my life. I saw them today. MJ invited me to a party and Ned was trying to convince me to build another 12,000 piece Lego set with him. This time though, I put my foot down and said hellll no.”

You left out the other parts of your conversation. Nat’s ‘shadow’ was still behind her. You didn’t want to say anything to alert him or set her off again.

Your words caused Nat to chuckle a little. You didn’t realize how much you had missed the sound, or rather, the genuineness of it.

“Good, good. And Mom and Dad?”

“Still as busy as ever,” You slightly rolled you eyes which only Natasha would understand. “Dad just got back from a conference and Mom is in a good mood so she’s cooking Okroshka tonight to celebrate. Your favorite,” You added, as if you both didn’t already know it.

“Hm. Sounds good.” Natasha nodded in approval, and you could see the way she licked her lips which caused you to smile.

At least that hasn’t changed, you thought.

“And anything else? I know I haven’t exactly been that involved, I want you to tell me everything cause I’m sure there’s a lot. Even the things that you might think are small, I’m still interested.”

Her green eyes bore into yours, and you furrowed your eyebrow as you could tell there was a deeper meaning to her words. Natasha was searching your face, or quite possibly everything about you, trying to use her spy training to uncover anything that she might have missed.

But you were confused. What exactly was she looking for?

“I think I tell you pretty much everything there is know when you call, Nat,” You say, beginning to get a little uncomfortable. “And besides there’s not very much that goes on my life, sooo…the only really new thing is Peter helping me with my paper.”

“Right,” she chuckled humorously at this. “And is that all?” She pressed, causing your attention to snap towards her. “Is there something more between you two, or…”

“No, no nothing like that,” You reassured her, suddenly wishing you had some water. All of a sudden it got hot, despite your window being open. “Peter and I are just…we’re just…we’re friends. He’s just helping me with this project and I doubt we’ll really even hang out after this, unless he comes by Marjorie’s to say hey or something.”

“Okay. Good,” Dare you say that Natasha looked relieved as the words awkwardly flew out of your mouth, and the shadow behind her twitched a little. You saw him turn his head towards her slightly, and if you weren’t mistaken, a small grunt left his lips open high immediately caused Nat to backtrack. “I mean, I’m sure there’s anything wrong with the kid, but I just…I just think you should catch up on your studies before getting involved with something, more you know? I mean get that you’re growing up, but are you really ready for the stuff that comes with a relationship, like sex and—”

“Oh come on Nat! Ew!” You groaned, not really wanting to talk about this with your big sister. “Don’t do this. It’s almost embarrassing as getting ‘the talk’ from mom and dad,” You told her.

Natasha chuckled once again.

“Please, just don’t even.”

“Okay, okay,” She finally agreed, holding her hands up as a small smirk played on the side of her lips. For just a split second, she looked like the old Nat and she blew out a breath, laughing at your clear embarrassment. “I’m just trying to make sure you know that there are other things out there than boys. I don’t want you getting caught up too soon cause you never know, right?”

“Rightttt,” You drew out the words slightly, rolling your eyes at your big sister. “Thanks, but no thanks Nat. This thing you seem to have imagined between Peter and I is not happening. He’s just a friend, and even then I don’t think he’s even interested in me. So really, you have nothing to worry about.” You said. “Capeesh?”

“Capeesh,” Nat seemed satisfied with the answer, but you couldn’t help the slightly nagging feeling in your chest as you played with the hem of your towel.

“But if there was something between us…”

“Y/N!” Natasha scolded you as you laughed, playing with a random figurine on your desk. She shook her head at you, but you weren’t done wondering what it is she seemed to have against your new…erm, friend.

“What?” You took in her expression, which was clearly disapproving. “Would it really be so bad? I mean, this is Peter we’re talking about,” You gave her an obvious look. But judging by the expression on her face, it was that bad.

“I already told you I want you to focus on school, not boys.”

But Ian! you defend yourself, shrinking back into your chair, but I mean, like you always say, I’m supposed to have fun too, right? And I know you tell me which ones to stay away from but I mean are boys so bad when they’re nice, and funny and—”

“Not Peter,” Natasha cut you off quickly, causing you to huff again. She sat up straight, suddenly becoming extremely serious. “голубка, please. Послушай меня, когда я скажу тебе, что тебе не обязательно сейчас встречаться с такими парнями, как Питер. (Listen to me when I tell you that you don’t need to be dating boys like Peter right now,” She begged you in Russian. You knew enough to understand her.

You furrrowed your eyebrows as Natasha seemed to suddenly flinch at something behind the camera.

“Boys like Peter? Nat what does that mean?” You asked, appalled.

“дерьмо…”

“Nat?” You sat up straight so that you could look into the camera. You could tell she muted you because all background noise ceased to exist, and she was saying something but you couldn’t tell what cause she moved her face from the frame.

Dammit. Sneaky spy.

You had to wait until Natasha got done talking with whoever it was she was conversing with, and while you waited an uncomfortable twinge pooled in your stomach. You stared anxiously at the camera until suddenly, the volume was back on and Nat’s nervous face came into view again.

“Sorry about that. Bucky was just telling me something about a mission,” She told you quickly, before you could even ask. “I’m fine.”

“…Okay,” you decided to just believe her and shrugged your shoulders, but you weren’t done with the topic you guys were discussing. “But just tell me this — why not Peter, Nat? I mean he seems like a really nice guy. Is there something he’s said or done while at the tower that makes you say that? I mean I know you guys have talked a couple of times but if he had any red flags why’d you tell him all about me? You don’t just go around telling everyone how much I like thrifting and blueberry muffins, do you?” You joked, but instead, Natasha just went white.

You knew the minute those words left your mouth that you had said something wrong. You weren’t sure what, but the unmistakable terror that gathered on Natasha’s face let you know everything you needed to know.

It triggered that feeling in your gut that you had felt so many times before, when you knew something was off, and it was pounding at you, gnawing as Natasha suddenly stood up and yelled something at you.

“Y/N—never—met—he—”

She was breaking up.

You groaned in frustration as the phone began to glitch out, the older device no doubt overheating after such a long conversation on FaceTime.

You grabbed your phone from where it was propped up on the desk and it was indeed hot, so you stuck it out the window in hopes of it cooling a down a little.

“Hang on Nat, I think my phone is glitching. Sorry, is it okay if I call you back when it cools down?”

“Y/N—please—I—”

“I love you too, Nat,” You told her, assuming that what she going to say. Your smiling face was still in the camera but hers had turned into a blank caution screen. Not soon after that, the phone hung up itself instead of reconnecting so you only assumed Nat heard you and had agreed.

You sighed, a little bummed that your call had gotten cut short but it quickly went away when you heard your mother calling you for dinner.

It was time to eat, and you noticed that you were still in your towel so you changed and made yourself presentable.

You chose some simple sweatpants and a tank top before booking it across your three bedroom apartment to where your mom and dad were sitting down, the smell of Okroshka filling your nose.

You inhaled, and when you sat down you thought of Natasha the entire time you ate and aimlessly chatted with your parents about your day.

When you finished, you cleaned your plate, bid good night to your parents, and rushed back to your room to see if your phone had cooled down any.

It had, but still, the one thing that stuck out to you was that there were no missed calls or texts from Natasha.

You sighed.

Oh well.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!avengers #picture perfect

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a-998h · 3 months

Text

Six

Creator's POV

I can feel my heart racing in my chest. The inside and outside of this room is silent, except for my heavy breathing. The door opens and a few kenin rush in.

"Sozunoshi! Are you alright?!" The older one asks.

While panting, I nod. Whatever dream I was having, means something.

After having breakfast with Ei I run into the city and look for a teleport way point. When I do find one, I stop to think about where to go. I wonder if going back to Liyue would be good, but I also want to see what Fontaine looks like in real life plus I want to find out if people can breathe underwater in the water around Fontaine. So I make up my mind to go to Fontaine.

Closing my eyes, I think of the Court of Fontaine, I feel a familiar warm feeling wash over me. When I open my eyes I'm met with a crowd of people.

"Umm... h-hello," I stutter out.

The people stay silent for a bit before they move closer to me. The noise, the amount of people, and how close they are makes me freak out. Tears flow down my cheeks.

"What is going on here?" A voice asks.

It sounds like a woman, but it has this authority to it that makes the people part like the red sea so whoever just spoke can see me. As the crowd parts, I see a tall red hat and long purple hair.

I know that hat and hair, I remember it from the Roses and Muskets event... It belonged to a hardened badass and hidden softie.

"Chevreuse," I mumble.

She looks at me, and stares. Her cold expression doesn't falter. She was followed by many of Special Security and Surveillance Patrol officers following behind her.

"Your grace, ludex Neuvillette has asked me and my best officers to escort you to the Palais Mermonia," she told me.

There were whispers from the people around us. I had enough of this being seen as a god thing and looked behind me and there are gardemeks. If I can teleport through the teleport waypoint, maybe I can teleport to locations like in the game.

So I close my eyes and think of Mondstandt city and hoped I ended up in the right place.

Venti's POV

Diluc was trying to cut off my wine drinking again. The Angel's Share was getting full. I walked out and then saw a flash of light. Running towards the light, I see... the Creator.

Helping them up, I lead them to the Angel's Share. When we get inside I led them to bar and sat them down.

"What would you like to drink?" I ask.

The Creator tells me what drink they want and I order it for them.

"It's been awhile, where have you been?" I asked once our drinks were in front of us.

The Creator told me what happened and the story was a mess. I feel like they are hiding something from me. I get Diluc's attention and he agrees to have the Creator stay at his home again, but they seem nervous and say they have to go somewhere. As me and Diluc tries to stop them, they get up and dash away from the tavern.

When I return to where I'm staying, I see a letter from Ei.

Reading it, it seems like she is getting Inazuma ready for the festival to welcome the Creator back. I smile and remember Teyvat has five more days before the Creator will be here, forever.

#genshin fanfic #cult au #sagau #creator!reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #Platonic Neuvillette #Platonic yandere

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cliozaur · 6 months

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While the barricade is still holding on, Hugo decides that this is his last chance to write about other barricades which he ordered to be taken by siege in June 1848. To make sense of what is going on, I read a chapter about Hugo in Jonathan Beecher’s Writers and Revolution: Intellectuals and the French Revolution of 1848 (2021). “Victor Hugo never forgot what he saw and did between June 22–26. Unlike our other writers, he participated in the fighting, and he did so on the side of the government.” Sigh.

This is where his lengthy explanations about the differences between uprisings and insurrections from 4.10.2 become relevant. He genuinely believed that everything that was going on in February 1848, before the abdication of Louise Philippe was revolution (insurrection), and what followed in June was uprising against the Republic. It was “a revolt of the people against itself.”

The problem was: people had legitimate causes to rebel. “Once settled in the Assembly, Hugo was immediately confronted by the question of the National Workshops. Like many on both the right and the left, he believed the Workshops were a disaster. They produced nothing and were “an enormous waste of resources”… he urged that they be closed… He apparently believed that by voting to dissolve the National Workshops, he was not voting to shelve the question of unemployment. He was wrong.” Moreover, when workers erected the barricades and the confrontation began, “Hugo seems to have convinced himself that the best way to limit bloodshed was to defeat the insurrection rapidly. For the next three days he became a tiger, “haranguing insurgents, storming barricades, taking prisoners, and somehow remaining alive.”

According to an account from a member of the National Guard, Hugo was acting suicidally: “This man... was M. Victor Hugo, a representative for Paris. He was unarmed and nonetheless he led us; and while we took cover behind houses, he alone kept to the middle of the street. Twice I tugged at his sleeve, telling him: “You’ll get yourself killed!” “That is why I am here.”” But this was because he believed that he was acting under divine protection.

During these days, Hugo was not able to contact his wife and his mistress. He heard rumours that his house was burnt down, but finally found out that it was not true: “When he finally got back to the Place des Vôsges, he found fourteen bullet holes around carriage entrance, but everything in the house was intact: rugs, furniture, silverware, wall hangings, ancient swords and muskets, and above all his manuscripts. A leader of the insurgents, a school teacher and a reader of Hugo, had even led tours of the house for other insurgents.” The last detail is heartbreaking.

In this chapter, Hugo conveys his point of view on the events of June 1848, infusing them with symbolic images of two barricades: both quite eerie and ominous. He is exploiting his talent of horror writer again: “The Saint-Antoine barricade was the tumult of thunders; the barricade of the Temple was silence. The difference between these two redoubts was the difference between the formidable and the sinister. One seemed a maw; the other a mask.”

The sad thing is that after this chapter with its context in Hugo’s biography, it is hard to read his depiction of other barricades from other time without thinking of him as a hypocrite. This is Hugo — an embodiment of controversy.

Siege of the barricade during the June days of 1848:

#les mis letters #lm 5.1.1 #les miserables #hugo's involvement in the june days of 1848 #historical context

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thinkingfandoms · 6 months

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An accurate list of the best movies I've ever seen

This list also includes reasons that are all too objective and nonsensical. Avoid asking too many questions. And share what you think in the comments!

Hercules

Hercules is probably my favourite Disney movie. And I also think that's where my interest in Greek mythology started. Hades is my favorite villain from this company and he's such a mood.

The Prince of Egypt

Oh dear you don't know how much I love this movie. I know every song by heart and was lucky enough to sing them with my choir. I'm a big fan of animation and despite how old is this movie, I think it remains one of the best ever produced. I cried more times over this movie than over all the others on this list combined.

Friends & Family

I only discovered this film this year but it quickly became one of my favorites. I have never laughed for so many consecutive minutes at a movie. I approached it because it's unusual to see a gay mob-themed movie, but I immediately fell in love with all the characters and the final scene remains one of the most comic I have ever seen.

Treasure Planet

I have a soft spot for animated films about great adventures and self-discovery. Jim has been my only animated crush for years, and his story has always resonated with something inside of me (maybe the desire for adventure and his recklessness, idk). Plus, of course, "'I'm Still Here" is one of the most beautiful soundtracks ever created.

Howl's Moving Castle

One of the first films I saw by Studio Ghibli and my absolute favourite. The love stories created by this Studio are always wonderful, and this one is no different. Plus I always saw myself in Sophie (especially about the crush on Howl) and, well, there's Calcifer, what more do you want?

Les Choristes

Another thing I love: movies about music. It may be that I've been playing an instrument for years and singing in choirs, but I've always cried watching kids rediscover a new side of themselves through music and songs. And these songs are composition's masterpieces. I still remember them all by heart even though French isn't my native language.

A Christmas Carol

I'm slightly obsessed with this story, with Charles Dickens and with Christmas. I was born on Christmas Eve so you can imagine how close this theme is to my heart. I have seen several versions of this story though, and for some reason, this one remains my favourite. It may be that it's different from other more colourful versions and really shows the darkness behind the original story, idk.

How to Train Your Dragon

I literally grew up with this saga: I was 8 years old at the first film, 12 at the second and 17 at the third. I watched Hiccup grow up with me as a friend and Toothless as a fellow adventurer. I'll forever be grateful to Dreamworks for creating the best-animated saga that cinema has ever seen.

The Three Musketeers

This movie is so random that it's perfect. I watched it again recently (after like 8 years) and realized that maybe my daddy issues come from this movie: Luke Evans, Orlando Bloom and the freaking Mads Mikkelsen together, seriously? I'm not surprised it was one of my favourite movies growing up.

A Monster in Paris

The love I have for this film is enormous. I could never get over the beauty of the songs in it. The characters are so well written and Francœur will always be in my top animated characters. It's too amazing to be real.

Rise of the Guardians

I could talk for hours about this film and have not even touched the tip of the iceberg. I have an insane obsession with all the characters, starting with and especially Jack, my top animated crush for years. It's all so perfect that I don't see how people never nominate it when it comes to top animated movies.

The Hobbit

Again, I have serious problems with films about fantasy adventures. I have always preferred The Hobbit saga to its sequel because the story has always fascinated me more. And the main character especially: for me Bilbo >>>> Frodo. And then there's Thorin and Luke Evans. You know, daddy issues.

Mune: Guardian of the Moon

Another French animated movie, another obsession, another adventure, another animated character in my top. This is an example of how to do good animation. There isn't a colour out of place. The settings are authentic, the characters are original, and the adventure they make gets me every time.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

I'm maybe a Muggle, but I prefer Fantastic Beasts to the Harry Potter saga. That's not to say it's better, mind you, but it reflects me more. We all know how we Hufflepuffs (and Ravenclaws) have no real representation in the HP movies, so to be able to have at least one prequel saga starring a Hufflepuff (in which I also find myself far too much) as the protagonist is wonderful. And I have an unhealthy urge to become a magizoologist.

The Greatest Showman

It's the movie I have watched the most of these. I know every song by heart and every line too. It always manages to be a roller coaster of emotions. And it has Hugh Jackman in it.

The Boy Foretold By The Stars

I'm a big supporter of the Philippine's film company. This is one movie is gentle, funny, and not based on the usual drama between Christianity and LGBT+ people (which is what I thought when reading the plot at first). Moreover, another underrated thing, the Philippines' music company here has thrown in masterpiece after masterpiece of songs, perfect for this movie.

Bros

This is my top comfort film in the last year. It's like watching a Hallmark movie but hotter, much more sincere and gay. Very gay. And the relationship between the two main characters is so cute and sweet. And funny.

Top Gun: Maverick

I love this saga but especially love this particular chapter. I love Maverick and his relationship with Rooster, and all the other characters are so well-written. And don't get me started on the story... I LOVE it. There isn't much else to say except that Cruise is a great actor (and a terrible person).

Glass Onion - Knives Out

I love my silly little gay detective. And I have a little passion for movies and mystery series. I found this saga's chapter more compelling than the first one, and the characters gripped me more. Also I fell in love with the setting. Oh and then there are Daniel Craig and Hugh Grant.

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clubdionysus · 3 days

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[BAD DECISION #1] Purple Starfuckers

warnings: alcohol, clubbing

soundtrack: bad decisions - bts, passionfruit - drake, promiscuous - nelly furtado & timbaland

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist

"Don't think of it as a bad decision. Think of it as a lesson learned. Something to remember for next time."

The way Hoseok looks at you is borderline comical - face all scrunched up, mouth hanging ajar. He's scowling, but it isn't new. He's had a face like a slapped arse all evening. Kinda goes with the territory of a fresh break-up, mind you.

"You don't seriously believe that?" He scoffs, before swallowing his words down with the rum and coke that he's been nursing for the past fifteen minutes. It tastes like shit, and is far too strong - but he's the one who asked for a triple. No one else to blame

The bartender had raised his pierced brow, told Hoseok that he's "not allowed to do that" - but had offered to make him a double and pour a separate shot, instead. "What you do with that shot is up to you," the bartender had shrugged - and so Hoseok had poured it straight on in.

You finish your own drink with a roll of your eyes and shake of your head. "What I believe is that she wasn't 'the one', Hobes. Was a lucky escape, if you ask me. She was fucking vile to me and Danbi."

"You guys just didn't get to know her proper-"

"Hobi, she wore white to Jungmi's wedding," Danbi interrupted. Truthfully, she could not have cared less for how badly Hoseok's ex had treated her - it was when she started behaving badly around other people, embarrassing them in the process, that she started to take offence. If there was one thing Danbi had, it was pride. "WHITE! Who does that?! Poor Jungmi. She's a better woman than me. I'd have fought that bitch on the spot, right in the aisle. Don't care if it's my wedding day, when bitches deserve a slap-"

"Dan," you laugh but try and get her to quiet down, knowing that Hoseok is still reeling from the break-up. As true as her words are, he doesn't need to hear them right now. Turning to Hoseok, you stroke up his shoulder tenderly, with a soft smile on your glossy lips.

You didn't cover yourself head to toe in glitter just to sit in the smoking area of a shitty club all night. There's fun to be had.

"Look, Hobes, it sucks that things ended the way they did -" a screaming match over the price of asparagus in the middle of a supermarket, that was totally an argument about something more than that, but Hoseok is still in denial - "but not everything we lose is a loss. Okay? You've still got us."

Which is admittedly more than he deserves after how much of a shitbag he'd turned into during the relationship. He'd go days, weeks - hell - sometimes months, without getting back to you. You and Dan had been fine - you had each other after all - but it still sucked not having your third musketeer with you.

"Now c'mon," you smile. "Get that drink down you, and get that pretty ass of yours on the floor. We both know you're dying for a good dance."

"I don't feel like it," he groans - but he downs his drink regardless, and is dancing to a noughties classic within five minutes.

You think it's Nelly Furtado - it is - but you're so drunk that you can't really place it. It's the kind of song that everyone knows; the kind of song that gets everyone's hips moving just right. Bodies are hot and sweaty, the clammy dancefloor a pit of sin. To you, though, it feels like heaven at that moment. This is all you've wanted for months. You're holding Danbi's hands, Hoseok between the pair of you, unable to escape and not really wanting to, either. He's smiling, and it's the best thing you've seen all night.

The lights of the club beam down on you, pinks and blues reflecting the satin dress you're wearing. It's short, barely covering your ass, and silver. Picked out especially for a night like this; when attention is welcome, but not necessarily encouraged. You think you look like a trophy. Maybe someone will be lucky enough to win you. Maybe not.

From the bar, Jeon Jeongguk thinks you look like a little disco ball.

He's wiping a tumbler dry, fresh from the glass washer, making most of the lull in customers coming to the bar. There are only three of them behind it, and it always makes Friday shifts feel that little bit more hectic.

Dionysus, a club just on the outskirts of the party district, is always busier on a Saturday, so he prefers Friday shifts. A relatively small club, it has only a single dancefloor and a bar area with a few seats. The back entrance leads to the smoking area, which is where he'd first noticed you coming from with your friends. There's nowhere to hide, really, in a club like this. If you're in Dionysus, everyone knows about it.

Especially the bartenders.

"What do we reckon," Yeonjun, the youngest of the crew, smirks at Jeongguk as he nods towards you and your friends. "They all going home together, or what?"

A little air squeaks through Jeongguk's lips as he purses them, trying to get a read on your little trio. The way you're moving your hips towards the dude in the middle certainly seems a little more than friendly. At least, if a girl he'd never met before was dancing with him like that, he'd take it as a good sign he was getting laid.

What makes it interesting is the fact that there are two of you. You in silver, another girl in black. Both pretty. Both incredibly different, but both captivating nonetheless. Like a pair of shooting stars, he thinks, cracking through the crowd at a vibrancy that could blind. Is a little confused as to how the fuck you aren't being pestered by other guys - doesn't complain though. Makes for a clear line of vision.

It's nights like these which make Jeongguk wish he worked a normal job. He misses out on all the fun always being behind the bar, he thinks. Does also save him from making some bad decisions that he knows would surely haunt him. If anything, he should be thankful.

"Fuck knows," he simply says, closing the glasswasher and whipping the towel over his shoulder. "10,000 won says he's going home alone."

Yeonjun smirks. "You're on."

It's less of a bet for Jeongguk. More of a manifestation. He likes watching you dance. Doesn't like the thought of you dancing with the dude by yourself. Doesn't like the idea of you leaving with him, either. Considers the fact that maybe you're not even interested in dudes, and that it's the girl you're holding hands with who you'll be leaving with instead. He's less intimidated by that - at least your disinterest in him would be preference based - but it's still not his favourite scenario.

It's not like he knows you, nor will he ever know you. He just likes to live in the what-ifs. They're always so much safer. Can't get rejected if you don't put yourself out there.

And so he carries on with work just like he should, serving the next punters who stumble to the bar. He pours them a water with their order, because lord knows they need it, and laughs when someone tries to pay for it thinking it's a vodka lemonade.

"On the house," he shrugs, letting their drunk minds believe it really is a vodka lemonade. Easier that way. Will get them drinking water, at least, even if just for a sip or so before they clock on.

You're laughing, a little out of breath and not entirely steady on your feet, as you head to the bar.

He'd been so busy with the last customers that he didn't even notice until he saw you using the bar to help steady yourself. You aren't looking in his direction, but up at the row of spirits behind him, trying to sus out what you fancy.

Your hair is dark, up in a ponytail with grown-out bangs framing your face. The makeup you've been wearing has faded, melted off from the heat of the club, but the glitter remains. You really do look like a disco ball, he thinks. It makes him smile.

"Hey, sorry," you beam towards him, eyes just as sparkling at the glitter dusted on your collarbones. He raises his brows, expression open, receptive, as he moves closer to the bar. "What's something that can get me fucked up but also tastes delicious?"

Oh, how he loves a challenge. He licks his lips and tilts his head to the side. "What do you qualify as delicious?"

"No passionfruit," you say almost instantly. "So no pornstars." And then you gag a little, to emphasise just how much you hate passionfruit.

"No pornstars, noted," Jeongguk says as he pulls an imaginary pencil from behind his ear and pretends to jot it down on his palm. He looks back up at you, and doesn't bother fighting the way his teeth bite down on his bottom lip - why would he? You're giggling. He likes it. And he also knows you're probably drunk, so won't remember this interaction in the morning.

"Well, I mean, none of the drinking variety," you grin, tongue in cheek. "If you happen to know any of the human variety, send them my way."

He almost chokes on his own spit. The shock in his eyes has you laughing again.

"I'm joking, you idiot."

Although you kind of totally aren't. You haven't been laid in a while. You'll take anything with a pulse who is interested at this point.

"I knew that," he bluffs, and looks back down at his palm as if he's reading again. "Okay, so no pornstars - pornstar martinis. What else?"

"Don't like orange juice."

"Do you like anything?"

You like lots of things. So many things that your brain can't think straight, actually.

You like the way a tattoo is peaking out of his shirt sleeve. You like dancing with your friends. Being drunk. His smile. The way he's joking with you. The knowledge that Hoseok is probably doing the robot as you speak. Sunsets. The chain around the neck of the man in front of you. Those cute tiny straws he puts in some of the cocktails. Him.

But you narrow your eyes, and ignore your brain. "Alcohol."

He narrows his eyes right back. Purses his lips. Looks down at his fake notepad, then back up at you. "I think I have just the thing for you."

Reaching for the plastic cups which you know are reserved for water, you almost look offended. Does he not think you have eyes? Are too drunk to know he's giving you water?

He places it in front of you and smiles, lips together, eyes round - but still challenging you.

"It's water," you tell him, and he nods. No denial.

"Uh-huh. Cleanse your palette first."

"Are we fine dining?"

"We aren't doing anything," he assures you. He's on the clock. "But everything tastes like shit after a smoke, so if you wanna enjoy it, have some water."

Your brows furrow together, head tilting and then you're self-conscious. "Do I smell like smoke?"

You'd doused yourself in perfume and had been chewing on gum to hide it, but apparently not well enough.

Jeongguk shakes his head, realising how much wider your eyes are. You don't seem as confident. You're not smiling anymore.

"No, no," he says quickly and nods toward your clutch, which is propped open on the side of the bar. A packet of cigarettes are sticking out slightly, a lighter tucked into the side. "I just guessed - sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, no. You don't. Not at all."

You follow his gaze, and find yourself smiling. Small misunderstanding. That's all. But he seems just as panicked as you had been. It's sweet.

"Fine," you elongate your response and let your eyes narrow again, to let him know you're ready to banter again. "I'll drink it - but whatever you're making better be good."

"If you hate it, it's on the house," he says, knowing that you won't hate it. He sets about making your drink as you sip on the water, not really watching him because you're trying to focus on not falling over. Water actually seems like a great idea. You're thankful for it.

When Jeongguk returns to your spot by the bar, he can't stop blinking. The glass of water - an entire pint - is finished. You're smiling, lips a little wet, eyes a little hazy.

"Thirsty," you shrug.

He checks your jaw to make sure it's not grinding, but it's perfectly still. Not a gram of MD - the drug of choice in Dionysus circles - in your system. You just really are thirsty - had been dancing all bloody night. He knows this, but he's naive to how hot it is down there. Hasn't actually been on the dancefloor himself in a while. Always working.

He accepts your defence, and holds up the shot in front of you. It's tiny, and pretty, all purple and shimmery.

Jeongguk smiles. "Purple Starfucker."

The water you've just finished almost comes back up through your system. "Sorry?!"

"Purple Starfucker," Jeongguk simply repeats. "Amaretto, peach schnapps, a little curacao and cranberry juice. Fucking delicious."

You do love all of those. It's the ideal drink for you. You've never had it before, but you know it's gonna be good. He places it down in front of you, but that challenging look is still in your eye.

He laughs a little. Can't figure you out. Has no idea what you're thinking. "What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing," you grin, picking the shot glass up by the rim, raising it with a nod. "To Purple Starfuckers."

Jeongguk nods back. Toys with his lip piercing, the tip of his tongue peeking out ever so slightly before he bites down on his lip. "To Purple Starfuckers."

From his peripherals, Jeongguk can see Yeonjun leaning against the countertop at the back of the bar, watching him with a curious smirk.

Un-fucking-believable, Yeonjun thinks. Reckons Jeongguk is trying to fuck with the bet. Trying to lure Disco Ball away. He doesn't hear the conversation, but he can read your lips - 'Holy shit? That's fucking delicious? How much do I owe you?' - and watches the way Jeongguk shakes his head. Hands too. Shrugs. Bloody git is giving it to you on the house.

10,000 won ain't that much, but Yeonjun doesn't like losing. "Oi, Disco Ball. Get your friends"- he nods towards Hoseok and Danbi. -"We'll make you a round."

He ignores the way Jeongguk's eyes burn into him, knowing that his shit-eating grin is enough to wind Jeongguk up. They love each other really, but in a way you'd love a sibling. Fully capable of hating one another, too.

You glance up to Jeongguk, almost as if you're asking his permission. You kind of are. You trust him. He's been kind. This other bartender? He's a bit louder. Far brasher. And he'd called you Disco Ball? The fuck?

Jeongguk nods. Doesn't want you to leave, but equally knows the only reason you're looking at him like that - eyes all wide and innocent - is 'cause you're drunk. Doubts it would be the same if you were sober. When he comes to think of it, he'd rather you were with your friends. Safer that way. "Hurry. Before we get really busy."

And so you scurry off, running on the balls of your feet to avoid awkward heel mishaps. There's something endearing about it and it's almost enough to distract him from Yeonjun's taunts.

"If he doesn't take her home, I will."

"She's fucked," Jeongguk tells him, voice stern, eyes still on you. Fucking around with punters isn't against the rules, but taking advantage of drunk girls? Yeah, not on his watch. Doesn't matter who it is. He's seen enough creeps and enough girls in tears because of them to know when to step in. "You're going nowhere near her."

"I clock off in an hour," Yeonjun reminds him. Jeongguk the one who's closing the bar tonight. "Plenty of time to play catch up."

Yeonjun - brilliant, blue-haired, and with enough boyish charm to seduce almost anyone - isn't a creep. He looks up to Jeongguk. Respects him. Follows his lead. Would never take advantage of a punter. He just likes winding Jeongguk up a little too much.

Jeongguk ignores him. Doesn't put it past him. While Yeonjun likes to think he has values, Jeongguk knows he's just as horny and desperate as the rest of the fuckers in the bar.

That's not to say Jeongguk is discounting himself from the generalisation - he just actually does have morals. To some degree, at least.

You're on the dancefloor for no more than thirty seconds, dragging Hoseok and Danbi with you to the bar. They complain and moan - "but I love that song!" - though as soon as they're faced with a tray of shots, their moods shoot up. You go to pay Jeongguk, but he shakes his head.

"On the house."

"You're trying to get me drunk," you accuse with a knowing smile.

"You're already drunk," he smiles right back. It's not his goal. It's a fairly quiet night. If anything, this is entertainment. Not like there's much better for him to be doing. Not until his friends drop by later, at least. "I'm just a nice barman."

Part of you wants to protest. He's covered in tattoos - his hands, the ones peaking from his shirt at the wrist and the neck - and has more piercing in his ears than you do. There's a stud in his brow, and a ring on his lip. It's his eyes though, that you think scream danger the most. They're deep and they're dark, and you know better than to trust them.

And yet when he smiles like that, your tummy feels all fuzzy in the same way that your head does.

"Well thank you Mr Nice Barman," you nod and curtsey, because that somehow feels appropriate.

"Jeongguk," he corrects, before knocking his head to the side and nodding towards the dancefloor. "Go enjoy your night, trouble."

Not too much, though, he thinks to himself, but watches as you bounce back to the dancefloor with your friends.

The drinks were a small gesture, but one that he knows will have made a difference to their night. No skin off his back. He likes doing things like this. You're not the first, likely won't be the last - but he spends a lot longer than usual quietly observing you as you get on with your night. Doesn't notice the smile on his face.

Yeonjun does, though. Chooses not to say anything. Knows when to pick his battles.

Does warn him when he sees Jeongguk's friends bundle in through the door, though. "Watch out boss. Same as usual?"

Jeongguk nods, and Yeonjun sets about making a round of drinks for the usual suspects. Three malibu and cokes, one rum and lemonade and four purple starfuckers. Jeongguk'll make those. They're his signature.

"Look what the cat dragged in," he grins towards his friends, all a little worse for wear. Bleary-eyed, they're smiling and joking, having come from dinner - which turned into drinks, and then more drinks and then - fuck it - clubs. Dionysus is always the final stop. They like the atmosphere; like the free drinks even more.

"You know us," Park Jimin grins at him in the sleazy way he so often does, which lets Jeongguk knows he's up to no good. "Where the pussy goes, we surely follow."

"Speak for yourself," Namjoon snorts beside him, a little more sober than the others. Taehyung and Yoongi are engaged in their own conversation - something about the Samsung Lions and baseball strategy that Jeongguk doesn't care much for. "Quiet night?"

"Fairly," Jeongguk nods - which can only mean one thing. Same thing it means every week.

He'd always thought that by the time they hit their mid-twenties, they'd be over this lifestyle by now - but his friends like to make just as many bad decisions as he does.

"Round up boys," Jimin cheers, his voice booming above the bass of whatever noughties classic is on. "Purple Starkfucker time!"

Jeongguk laughs. Shakes his head, rolls his eyes. Unfolds his defensive arms. Glances up to the crowd - but you're lost to the night. Maybe not forever, but for now, at least.

And so he just nods, and cheers along with them.

"Purple Starfucker time."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

#by holly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk #jungkook x reader #jeongguk fanfic #bangtan #jungkook fluff #bartender!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #jeongguk fic #bad decisions #dappleddaisies

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